Malpractice
by PoppyPickford
Summary: Mike thought learning to submit would be the hardest part of being someone's Sub. But it turns out the real challenge comes when you realize your Dom is a fallible mortal, just like everyone else, and submitting to a mortal sometimes comes with complications. A story of the ups and downs of Harvey and Mike's relationship a year after "Subspace" ends.
1. Chapter 1

_**SUMMARY:**_

_Mike thought learning to submit would be the hardest part of being someone's Sub. But it turns out the real challenge comes when you realize your Dom is a fallible mortal, just like everyone else, and submitting to a mortal sometimes comes with complications._

_A story of the ups and downs of Harvey and Mike's relationship a year after "Subspace" ends._

* * *

_**WARNINGS / TAGS: **_

_Dom/sub, BDSM, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Slash, Bondage, Discipline, Spanking, Subspace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Fisting, Rimming, Public Sex, Sex Club, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Safewords, Established Relationship_

* * *

_**NOTES:**_

**This is the second part of what will be a three part series in the ****_Subspace_**** verse. If you have not read ****_Subspace_****, I would strongly suggest doing so as this will make little to no sense as a stand alone. I did not make any attempt to "fill in the blanks" for virgin readers. However, having said that, if you would like to try anyway - more power to you!**

In other news, I now have two phenomenal betas - herasmom and Peculiaritea (KarinBerry). They have both been hugely supportive and given me great advice. I should think that _Malpractice_ will read a lot smoother because of them. I have also painstakingly edited the entirety of _Subspace_ with the heroic help of herasmom, so should you be the kind of reader (like me) who keeps PDF copies of fics on their hard drive. PLEASE, re-download _Subspace_.

_PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF TAGS AND WARNINGS!__ This story has significantly more pornographic material and significantly more triggers than my previous. While these warnings are subject to change, if a chapter contains unexpected content, I will alert you in the chapter notes._

Finally, please refer to the end notes of this chapter for a (slightly spoilery, but no less important) disclaimer, and some information on safe-play practices. Now, with no further ado, I hope you enjoy and look forward to your feedback! You can safely expect a new chapter update every seven to ten days.

* * *

Mike gently unlocks his collar and sets it down on the bathroom vanity. Taking it off, even for necessary purposes, still makes him uneasy. It had taken a few days of playful encouragement from Harvey to convince him that he's no less collared whether the leather is touching his skin or not. Mike knows this, but he really _really_ needed to hear Harvey confirm it. Since then his Dom has been delicately cautious in allowing Mike the choice of when or when _not_ to unlatch.

Mike looks in the mirror at a pale strip around his neck. He rubs at it with his hand and finds the area balmy and slightly uneven in texture. Around the back he fingers a patch of chafed skin that has been stinging all week. He fumbles around in the foreign drawers to the right of the sink until he finds a stack of washcloths. He wets one with soap and water and begins wiping at the area, careful to avoid more bleeding.

"Hurry up, the sun is practically up," a voice calls from the other side of the bathroom door. "We'll be late for work if we don't get started now."

Mike hums in response as he finishes and wrings out the little spot of blood from the white square of flannel.

"Mike!"

Mike opens the door to glare at Ethan who is standing in his dim little hall, hair in a low ponytail. His eyes narrow and his lips part in surprise.

"Shit, you're bleeding."

"Am I?" Mike says nonchalantly as he turns and tosses the cloth into the hamper by the shower.

Ethan walks behind him and gently touches the back of his neck. Mike sidesteps his friend, irritated by the touch of anyone but Harvey.

"How often do you take that thing off?"

He shrugs. "Basically never."

"This is only going to get worse."

Ethan too is sporting a collar, his however, doesn't have to be removed in public. Mike, thank fuck, can get away with wearing one under his shirt and tie at the office without anyone but Harvey noticing. His low-slung running shirt, however, isn't so forgiving.

"This happens to you?" Mike asks.

Ethan's eyes twinkle in a way that used to make Mike want to punch him in the face, and still does, to a degree. He has a cocky know-it-all way about him as if Mike is the precious innocent rookie all over again. But this time in the art of subbing, not law, with Ethan as his teacher, not Harvey. Mike shouldn't want to be his friend. In fact he spends an unreasonable amount of time bitching to Harvey about all the things he can't stand about his ex – okay Ethan is emphatically _NOT_Harvey's ex, which he's repetitively reminded, but he'd seemed like competition at one time and that's enough to irk Mike.

The reality is that despite his complaining, when Mike is actually with Ethan the friendship is addictive. He's the only other Sub who knows what Mike is and the camaraderie, Mike has found, is desperately needed.

Ethan reaches into the vanity behind the magnetic mirror and pulls out a bottle of antiseptic cream. "No, it doesn't happen often to me, and when it does it's because a certain someone tied me up too tight." He beams like it's worth every chafe. "This miracle bottle is our best friend." He pushes it at Mike's chest. "Keep it."

Mike mumbles a thank you and sets it down next to his collar.

Ethan watches him in the mirror with one hand on his hip while Mike pulls on his slightly oversized shirt – to "hide the Sub" - as Ethan would say.

"You should show him your neck."

Mike shrugs.

"I'd get in trouble, and I'd bet money Harvey would be mad too if-"

"Don't tell me what my Dom will or won't think, okay?" Mike barks.

After a moment of tense silence he exhales and looks over at Ethan sheepishly. His friend is remarkably forgiving of his short fuse when it comes to Harvey, especially now that Mike has the decency to seem sorry about it.

"Okay, I get it. No unasked for advice. Now, that's enough playing doctor," Ethan jokes, "I already did that this week. Let's run."

* * *

Mike shuts the front door lightly and hangs his keys on a little hook above the entry table. The sun is just beginning to brighten and on any other Friday Mike would be jumpy with the joyful anticipation of the weekend. He's the morning person, Harvey – not so much. However today Mike wants to get back in bed, snuggle into the warm arms of his still sleeping Dom and get another hour before he's forced to face the new day. Besides, work sucks so much right now that when Harvey's had his coffee, that's all he'll be talking about. Best to savor the quiet before the storm.

Harvey mumbles sleepily when Mike presses into him under the covers and nudges his shoulder with the top of his head. He wraps an arm around Mike and pulls in.

"You smell," he mumbles.

Mike didn't think about showering. "Okay." He moves to roll out again. "I'll go –"

"No. Stay."

Mike smiles and kisses Harvey's sleep slack lips. "Okay."

* * *

That night, after too long a day at the office preparing the final bit of evidence for the Leavitt case, Mike stares encouragingly at the tall cabinet of toys in the bedroom, hoping Harvey gets the message. To this day, Mike hasn't seen inside. The key, although left in the lock, is firmly off limits. Mike suspects that leaving it out in plain and tempting sight is meant to be some sort of test. So far, Mike hasn't felt the need to snoop. Harvey would know, he _always _does. Having not seen inside the cabinet is meant to do something to Mike's sense of anticipation and, of course, his trust. Over the months Mike has pretty much memorized, just from sound, where everything is kept. On occasion he hears something shifted, moved, bumped, or jingled, that he's never seen. And _that_, is what keeps his attention.

Mike is laying ass up and naked on the bed while Harvey flicks through a file. His hearing is scheduled for Monday and Harvey is, to be frank, in a blind panic.

Harvey looks over the edge of the file at Mike, catches his eye, and follows its path with a growing grin to the tall double door wardrobe.

"You need to play, baby?"

Mike rolls to his side, displaying his front complete with erect cock, and says, "If it pleases you, sir."

Harvey chuckles, shakes his head in amusement, and goes back to his work. "So polite. I'm almost tempted."

"Tomorrow's Saturday. No work," Mike complains.

"Theoretically. You know weekends are fictional before hearings."

"Who's going to notice if we straggle in at ten? Or even noon." He drapes himself over the bed as Ethan had taught him and runs a hand down his chest and toward his cock. Harvey looks up at him darkly, shakes his head no, and goes back to reading.

Mike lays back letting his fingertips dance dangerously close to his erection. He's sure Harvey sees him in his peripheral vision, so when he barks a reprimanding "Hands off, Mike!", he's not surprised. It's not exactly a rule so much as common sense Harvey knows Mike understands. If Harvey tells him _not tonight, _that doesn't mean Mike can take things into his own hands_._ Mike flops to his side in indignant frustration. Seriously. If Harvey would just take a break, get his mind off this case and indulge a little, it would do them both a world of good.

If Mike were really out of sorts, he could take advantage of his contract term allowing him to start a scene, with or without Harvey's strict approval. Harvey wouldn't deny him then. But, it's not worth it. When Mike gets pushy Harvey gets irritable and distracted, almost methodical. And what Mike was hoping for was a display of the intense and attentive Dom he's fallen so head-over-heels for.

He rolls onto the floor and crawls hands and knees to Harvey's side where he's greeted with a perfunctory stroke through the hair, still matted with the day's flaking product.

"Only if you can keep quiet," Harvey instructs.

"Yes, sir," Mike whispers. And he means it. But after sitting there for at least twenty minutes staring at the big bed that currently does not contain him getting fucked, Mike decides that Harvey didn't say anything about staying still. So, with what is really very well meaning intention, he starts nuzzling his Dom's thigh and running his hand teasingly up his exposed calf.

Before he realizes Harvey even noticed the attention, the papers in his lap flutter to the floor and a hand is gripped too tightly around the back of Mike's neck.

"If I had time to punish you Mike, god help me I'd put you over my knee."

"What - what'd I do?"

"When I say no, it means no." He's practically snarling when he releases Mike with a push that sends him toppling over onto his hip. "I shouldn't have to waste so much time taming a pushy Sub."

Mike's breath catches in his throat just as Harvey realizes himself and throws his face into his hand, exhaling. "Shit. Mike, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Mike pushes himself off the ground and backs up, but Harvey catches his hand and pulls him in, despite his resistance. He places a long warm kiss into his palm and then presses it against his cheek.

"Forgive me, that was uncalled for."

Mike swallows. "Yeah, okay."

"And it was untrue. You know that right? My stress level is an eleven, I'm saying things I don't mean."

Mike nods tensely.

"Come sit with me," he says, scooting aside in the wide armchair. "I'll give you my attention, if you need it. I will."

Mike looks at the spot and shakes his head. "No, thanks. I'm cool."

"Really? Then what was all this about?"

He shrugs. "I just thought you might need something tonight. Get your mind off things. Something... rough maybe." He glances at the wardrobe.

Harvey's eyes narrow. "What makes you say that?"

"A high adrenalin scene relaxes you. That's right, isn't it?"

Although Mike is still wounded from Harvey's comment, he allows himself to be pulled down for a kiss and ushered kindly toward bed without an answer to anything at all.

After staring at Harvey for another fifteen minutes from the bed, just in case, Mike rolls onto his back with one of their feather pillows under his head and drifts off.

* * *

Mike wakes with a start. His face is burning and a hand is tight around his wrist. He looks up, startled, to find Harvey looking down at him in the darkness. His chest is bare, but Mike can't tell from this angle what else is exposed. His eyes glisten from the glow of the digital clock on the bedside table.

Mike reaches up to touch his hot and sensitive cheek. He'd been slapped.

"You wanna play rough?" Harvey's words are slurred with arousal, making his normally clear and precise tone lazy and crude.

Mike nods, his pulse thrumming in his neck and groin, and now, even in the skin of his reddening cheek.

Harvey holds his fist up with something balled between his fingers. If Mike squints he can just barely make out the white ribbed edge of one of his gym socks. Before he has time to protest the wad is crammed between his teeth. He groans in frustration and spits it out.

"Give me the ball instead," he says.

Harvey's eyes narrow dangerously. He grabs one of Mike's thin legs and flips him over. Mike pushes up with his hands to crawl away but Harvey is already pushing him down to the bed and pulling his hair back. Mike gasps and then shrieks as a series of rough slaps come down across his ass. Harvey knows Mike likes to bury his face in something to help muffle his cries. This is meant to force him to feel all the pain without any of the simple comforts he's learned to find during a spanking. After what feels like at least a dozen hard hits Mike begs for him to stop, which, to his surprise, Harvey does. Harvey pulls his hair back further and leans over until their cheeks touch - his hot red skin to Harvey's unshaven stubble. Harvey rubs them together while Mike whimpers softly.

"You gonna take the sock now, like a good boy?"

Mike nods enthusiastically and opens his mouth wide for the offered gag. It's not unclean. Harvey's never been into any of the more, shall we say, messy kinks. It's just that the sock doesn't really give Mike anything satisfying to bite into, and the fabric dries out his mouth in minutes, leaving him unpleasantly hoarse. Harvey arranges both his arms above his head and lets Mike watch as he shackles his hands together with a pair of leather cuffs. They've used it before. With his wrists attached to the rings in the headboard it forces Mike to lie face down and helpless, his hands turned away from the bars, unable to hold onto anything, or even adjust his weight. Usually it's infuriatingly frustrating, even maddening. But sometimes, when he's feeling particularly pliable, the helplessness is the greatest high short of chemicals. His cock twitches appreciatively when Harvey locks the last chain down and sits back.

From behind, Mike can hear Harvey squirt lube into his palm. His cock hardens fully at the implication. Harvey's been obsessed with fucking lately. _Hard_ fucking. A stark shift from their first time together when his Dom had treated Mike with calculated delicacy. All in all Harvey is still a Dom more likely to pet his Sub than whip him. But lately Harvey has been in a dark mood that sparks harsh and intense scenes. Fortunately Mike has nothing to complain about. Especially when the experience mellows Harvey out enough to put him back in one of his temperate and understanding moods. At least for a while.

Harvey shoves a pillow under Mike's hips and uses his dry hand to press down on the small of his back while the other presses three fingers into him. Mike arches back wantonly.

"Do you want to see if I can get all five inside you?" Harvey asks, pushing down on Mike when he twitches away in surprise. "Shake your head no and I'll stop." Mike tenses his ass cheeks nervously before relaxing into his decision and spreading himself out further. Harvey has wanted this for a long time now, although he's never mentioned it. Not exactly. And now, with his muscles still pleasantly relaxed from sleep and the submissive languor that comes after a spanking, it seems like as good a time as any.

Harvey pets the long line of his spine again where sweat is starting to pool despite the A-class air-conditioning whirring almost silently above their heads. Gently and firmly he presses down on Mike's back as his other hand pushes in and fucks him with three curved fingers. Mike sighs in blissful pleasure, letting his forehead drop to the sheets while it still can. When they're both panting with need Harvey replaces the three with four curved digits - the most they've tried together. Mike grunts, his eyes clenched in nervous anticipation of pain. But after a while, as he relaxes into the rhythm of Harvey's care, he realizes that there's hardly any pain at all, just a fullness that signals to his brain, arousal, anticipation, and want.

At some point subspace kicks in and what's left of his reservation fades out. Harvey has been pumping just the tips of all five fingers into him and twisting.

"Can you take it?" Harvey asks.

Through the fog Mike can just barely distinguish his question as genuine hesitation, not playful teasing. He nods, grinds his knees firmly into the mattress and tightens his hands into fists. Harvey runs a hand up his back and into his hair, caressing him gently, before fisting his head back at the same moment he pushes everything into Mike with a shuddery sob that Mike can barely hear over his own muffled scream and explosive orgasm.

* * *

After untying him Harvey flips him over and enters his loosened hole gently, mindful of Mike's sensitive wilting erection. He pulls the gag from Mike's mouth and kisses him tenderly as he thrusts slowly and with infinite care. Mike stares up at his Dom with unmasked adoration and submissive trust as Harvey takes pleasure in his body, then slumps down beside him.

Mike stares up at the ceiling, feeling sleepy and high from subspace.

"Thank you," Harvey says.

Mike looks over at his Dom who is staring at him from his pillow with intensely lidded eyes and frown lines.

Harvey has never thanked him for anything sexual before. He always takes or gives whatever's needed and moves on, cocky even in the assurance of his skill.

"What for?"

He sighs. "I needed that, and, I wasn't sure…"

"Wasn't sure of what?"

"If you'd safeword out." He throws an arm over his eyes. "Shit, I shouldn't have gagged you." He looks over at Mike with a look of panic. "Did you need –"?

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I… liked it. It was good." He grins.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really. You know I trust you."

He runs his fingers over Mike's temple, his expression searching. "You do, don't you." With a sigh he rolls onto his back and opens his arm for Mike to slide into his embrace. "You're the first Sub who I've done that with."

"No way. Seriously?"

"Ummhmm. If a Sub doesn't trust you enough to relax it can hurt like hell. Or so I'm told."

"But what about…" He doesn't finish his thought. He just clears his throat and lowers his head back to Harvey's bicep. He knows the subject of Scottie is off limits, but sometimes he forgets.

"Not all Subs are as moderate with their safeword as you."

"Is that a good thing?"

Harvey's shoulder shrugs below him. "Perhaps it shows we're a good match. That you trust me, and that I know what you can and cannot take. It's a good thing, so long as you never forget to use it if you really need to. Letting something go too far is more damaging to a relationship than the awkwardness of safewording. Believe me."

Mike nuzzles into Harvey's embrace and enjoys the peaceful silence they've fallen into. Harvey, at times like this – quiet, soft of touch, contemplative – has become a warning sign for Mike, who can now read even the most subtle of his Dom's mood changes. True contentment after a scene results in Harvey either falling quickly to sleep, or else, fussing over Mike's comfort until he himself blacks out. Just like their first time together when Harvey ended fearful of Mike's reaction to their first fucking and needing reassurance. Harvey is now keeping him awake, quietly demanding an alert ear to whatever is warring around in his mind. A good scene is just as therapeutic for Harvey as it is for Mike, especially when it comes to digging out the thing even his solid confidence tries to bury.

"You can tell me," Mike whispers, confident that his Dom will know what he means.

Harvey shifts uncomfortably and wipes a hand over his eyes. "I'm going to lose this case."

Mike props himself up on one elbow, eye furrowed.

"It's done. I can song and dance my way through the hearing, make it look like we'll win, but we won't."

"Don't say that. You're the best closer -"

Harvey laughs ironically. "That's not a name I gave myself, and not one I've been all that deserving of lately."

Mike thinks over the past months. It's true. Harvey has fallen off his game a little. Not much, but just enough to draw the attention of their superiors.

Two of the companies Harvey had been sure he'd secured at the holiday gala were a bust, and three months ago Peter Leavitt and his up-and-coming automotive company backed out halfway through negotiations with Pearson Hardman to sign with a rival firm not more than a block away. Harvey tried, and failed, to get back in Leavitt's graces. So upon Jessica's urging, Mike was sent to try once again and just barely convinced him to return. Something about his subtle submissiveness charmed the over-dominant CEO and convinced him to put his multi-million dollar lawsuit against HGP financial in Harvey's hands.

"I missed something, something big," Harvey says. "I was so sure the defendant could be held liable for Leavitt's losses. So did they, for that matter. But they can't." He turns to look at Mike, his expression frighteningly distraught. "I really fucked up. I can't even imagine what Jessica will say after this loss. Waiving our fees will be laughable compensation. Without this settlement Leavitt will be bankrupt before he even gets off the ground floor. We'll have to take a hit. A _big_ hit if we want to avoid a malpractice suit. Fuck. And it would be all my fault."

"Malpractice? Harvey, it can't be that bad."

"Don't be naïve, Mike. When you work with multi-million dollar lawsuits you better damn well win. And if you don't it better not be because you were worried about overworking your associate with late night research."

Mike sits up. "You mean I could have prevented this?"

Harvey shakes his head. "No. I don't know, maybe. I don't think any of us would have thought to dig _that _deep before advising Leavitt to bring his case. Besides, I don't like you doing busy work if you don't have to."

For the past few months Harvey has been giving him more slack at work. No matter how much he denies it, Harvey takes their personal life into consideration when assigning Mike projects. Neither of them acknowledges it because neither of them wants to have _that_discussion. The discussion that leads to the inevitable, and completely unacceptable conclusion that mixing business with pleasure is a bad idea. They're so fucking great together, at home and in the office. But when things get rocky on both ends, when the complications of being a new couple coincide with the complication of work, something has to give. They just quietly hope the sacrifices they make don't come back to bite. And now, it looks like their lucky streak has run out.

"You said you didn't need help. You said it was cut and dry. Harvey, I've read the case backwards and forwards. HGP financial has to be held liable. We did the research. We combed through their files as well as we would anyone's." His pulse is hammering in his ears.

"Not well enough. They're indemnified by a settlement agreement from 1994. I didn't notice it. Even _they_didn't notice it, but they have now. They've been too quiet and that's never a good sign. They have us by the balls, and they know it." When he turns to look at Mike, it's the most vulnerable he's ever seen his normally put together Dom. "Peter Leavitt will find out I advised him to pursue a hopeless cause. He'll discover he was right in thinking the invincible Harvey Specter isn't as invincible as everyone thinks. I'll be a failure, Mike."

Mike shakes his head. "You can't think of yourself in such black and white terms. You're human, Harvey. Humans make mistakes. No one is invincible."

Harvey doesn't say anything. He doesn't acknowledge that Mike is right and that it's okay to fall off your horse once in awhile. He just exhales slowly and goes back to staring at the ceiling. Mike cuddles up closer to Harvey and runs a hand gently back and forth over his chest.

"We'll figure it out together. We'll work all weekend until we find a way to prove they're liable. It's what we do. We find the loophole that no one else saw and exploit it. Don't give up Harvey. You never give up."

Harvey nods stiffly.

"It's gonna be fine. Great even. An awesome win," Mike says with feigned conviction.

"Sure."

* * *

_**DISCLAIMER:**__ This fic includes BSDM scenarios that could be considered abusive and/or upsetting to some readers. It should, however, be noted that this fic illustrates an established relationship in which trust issues are being examined and tested. In some cases 'scenes' are meant to reflect a small degree of misjudgment that will be addressed at a later point in the story. Anyone interested in experimenting with BSDM should research safe-play and not take anything written here as an advisable scenario to replicate in real life. Remember, this is a piece of fiction that takes place in an alternate universe, and therefore does not accurately reflect the emotions, responses and/or outcomes of a scene. Your experiences will be dependent on your own situation and partner. Remember to ALWAYS experiment with a trust worthy partner, ALWAYS have a safe-word, and NEVER experiment with gags unless you have a non-verbal means of signaling should you need to end your scene. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm going out of town for the weekend, so I wanted to get this posted before I leave. When I start a new fic it's exciting and fun and I have a hard time holding back chapters. Hopefully you don't mind ;) However, you can continue to expect a 7-10 day wait in the future..._

_This chapter contains a scene that might trigger some readers. For a slightly spoilery warning, refer to end notes._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Court day the following Monday dawns on a foggy and chilly June morning. Harvey and Mike spent the night on the couches in Harvey's office going over the case papers for, like, the fifteenth time. Mike had been almost aggressively persistent, to the point that he was one strike away from being dragged home for a punishment. It seems Harvey is losing tolerance for the pushy behavior he sometimes calls _endearing._

They wake up just as the sun is rising, surprised to still be in the office.

"Shit, I have to shower," Harvey says, resigned.

Mike nods solemnly and follows him around half-dazed as he gathers their things into a briefcase. They take a cab back to the apartment where Mike is allowed to get ready while Harvey fusses one last time over what is literally a lost cause.

Mike wanders out in one of his best suits with his hair slicked to the side in a trick Harvey taught him. It's a style that allows for a longer length undeniably satisfying to Harvey, but, when styled, is unquestionably Dom in the office.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harvey asks.

"The hearing?"

"Not necessary."

"Why not? I want to be there."

"It's not your case."

"I helped!"

"Yes, and I appreciate it."

Mike crosses his arms over his chest and squares his shoulders in a way that infuriates Harvey when they're not in the office.

"I'm coming. I invested time and energy into this too and I want to see it play out. You can't stop me."

Harvey stands abruptly, his eyes darker and his expression more fierce than it's been since Mike earned his first spanking. It's not something Harvey would expect Mike to misinterpret.

"Do what I tell you Mike, or God help me I'll whip you so raw you'll be bruised for a month."

They're both breathing laboriously. Mike suspects that half the reason Harvey's expression hasn't evened out now that the consequences are stated is Mike's stubborn refusal to shift out of his dominant posture.

Mike reaches for his keys and snatches up his briefcase. "Fine. I'll be at the office later. I'm going to see my grandmother first." He's vibrating with anger and disappointment as he passes Harvey. "Good luck," he says without sincerity.

* * *

Mike wanders into his Gram's room as she's taking her last bite of eggs from a tray beside the bed. She's watching _Good Morning America_ with a little smile as the hosts parade leashed baby zoo animals. Mike glances at his watch. It's 8:30. He should have been at the office a half hour ago, but he doesn't give a shit. No one but Louis will notice on a day like this, and what Louis thinks of him is not a concern right now.

"Hey Grammy." She looks up at him with a wide smile and pushes the rolling tray aside, struggling more than usual to stand.

"Hey, no, don't do that. Sit down." He rushes over and grabs her arm as she wobbles with determination to the couch.

"Sit with me, Michael."

He gets her situated and brings her the half-full coffee cup before settling beside her. He sinks into the cushions and feels his tension melt away. The warm familiar smell of her, the comforting weight of her hand on his knee, the sound of her voice as she hums melodically as he speaks, makes him nearly as relaxed as an evening at Harvey's feet.

He assures her nothing is wrong, that Harvey is well. Everyone is fine. She looks at him with the wisdom of her age and experience. His grandmother had loved Harvey from the moment she met him. He'd even let her try to intimidate him without letting on that he knew her game. "He's a strong and passionate soul," she'd told him with sincerity. "He's also temperate and forgiving." It's something Mike would have vigorously agreed with, at the time, but he's beginning to question now. Perhaps unfairly. Everyone goes through dark seasons.

They chat about mundane things, soaking up each other's company and intermittently watching TV. Finally she turns, grasps his hand and says, "I know my grandson and I know that look. Something has to be wrong at home for you to be so discouraged."

He sighs and rubs the back of her freckled and wrinkled hand.

"Things at work have gone to shit. That's all. Harvey is so used to being in control of everything."

She sighs. "All Doms struggle when they can't get a firm handle on what's important to them. This won't be the first time you'll help him through something like this. I guarantee you."

She says it with the finality and confidence of a Sub who's been through much worse than what has Mike tied up in knots.

"So you're saying," Mike begins, but they're interrupted by a coughing fit that Mike helps her tame with a sip of warm coffee.

"It's just the tail end of a cold," she says.

"You were sick? No one told me."

She bats her hand dismissively. "What I was saying is that the only _good_ thing you can do for him is remind him that he's still in control when it comes to you. Assure him that you don't think less of him and that you will do what he needs to help him get through it." She smiles. "You see? Just be his rock, Mike."

Mike stares at the wall to the left of the TV thinking. _Be the 'rock'?_ Isn't that supposed to be Harvey's job?

* * *

No one notices that Mike straggles into the office at nearly 11am. Kylie asks how his lunch break was and Donna doesn't even look up from her phone when he asks about Harvey. She grunts something unintelligible and eventually Mike wanders away.

Around two o'clock Louis wanders by his cubicle and stops with an elbow on top of his monitor.

"Your mentor lost his big case. Did you hear?" He looks positively gleeful.

"No."

Mike refuses to look up from his email, so Louis bends down until his oily, round face is in Mike's line of sight. Mike looks up at him reluctantly.

"Looks like his day in the sun is coming to an untimely end."

Mike grits his teeth. "No lawyer wins every case. It doesn't change the quality of their performance, or worth to a company. He'll bounce back."

Louis grins and reaches out to run a hand across Mike's face, whether in jest or with what Mike is beginning to suspect is an unnerving sincerity, he doesn't know. Either way, Mike jerks away and glares at Louis.

"Such an innocent boy. This is Pearson Hardman, not some small time firm."

Mike looks around the cubicles to be sure no one is paying attention. "Keep your hands off me, man."

"Or what? It's just a joke Mikey." Louis winks and walks down the aisle, saying something to the other associates that Mike can't quite hear through the buzzing in his ears.

Things with Louis have been getting progressively worse and infinitely more difficult to combat. Louis suspects something. More than likely he _knows_ something. Mike takes some comfort in the fact that there's next to nothing he can do to prove it. Not now that Harvey has helped him invest in the legal altering of his orientation records. But still. Louis is a weasel and if there's something damning to be found, he'll find it.

Mike has been meaning to talk to Harvey about this. In fact, if Harvey knew how long he's put it off, he'd be furious. But having to face the way Harvey will look at him, so disapproving and disappointed, makes him think that waiting it out and dealing with it himself, is a good idea.

Mike texts Donna.

_Is he back yet?_

_Yes._

_He's not okay, huh?_

_No._

Mike slumps in his chair and lets his head fall back. He just wishes he knew what to do to make this all right. Shouldn't a Sub, a _good_Sub, know the right action to take?

Mike flicks off his computer and steps away to call Ethan. It still feels like a punch in the gut when he has to ask the prick for advice, but it'll help confirm what his grandmother suggested and he's already begun to suspect. He glances at Rachel's closed office door on the way to the always deserted filing room. He wishes he could ask her instead, but Harvey has been painfully clear on that end, to both him and Donna. If they give their secret away to a Sub who could very well go tongue wagging to Jessica should her feelings ever get hurt, Mike's legal aspirations will be wounded, and probably not without public disgrace - for him and Harvey both.

It just sucks. He'd love someone to talk to about these things. Someone who doesn't have a smirking bitch face. Besides, he knows she wouldn't do that to them. To _him_. Especially if she understood how much he's worked to get where he is.

Halfway to the elevator Mike stops. He doesn't have to tell her anything _specific _right? She already thinks he's gay. Or maybe, a switch or something. It wouldn't give anything away if he asked her some basic, non specific questions. He turns around and glances into Harvey's dark, empty office. He's obviously off with Jessica trying, and probably failing, to stitch things back together. Donna's desk is also empty. Good. No one to catch them.

* * *

"So… this is a new Dom you're seeing?" Rachel's eyes narrow as she grips her coffee cup.

Mike nods. "Yeah. He used to be with Subs mostly. You know, before. And sometimes it's still a challenge, um, figuring out how to give him what he needs."

She bites her lip and smiles. "I've never given sex advice to a gay before."

"Not _sex_ advice. Just… advice."

"Yeah, okay. What's his deal then?"

Mike clears his throat and fiddles with the pen tips sticking out of a cup on her desk. "So, he's having a really hard time with, like, pretty much _everything_right now, and the more I try to be supportive, the more I seem to piss him off."

"Piss him off how?"

"I don't know. He snaps at me, says hurtful stuff he doesn't mean. Aggression is literally rolling off him in waves and no matter how much I try to diffuse it, the next day he looks ready to punch a wall. It's so not like him."

Rachel hums. "That's pretty common. I mean, don't you deal with pent up dominant emotions?"

Mike rolls his shoulders back and shrugs. "Occasionally."

"So what is he like? Normally?"

"Sweet, gentle, attentive. He likes to play rough sometimes, don't get me wrong, even when he's not in these moods. But... it's like he's throwing caution to the wind and hoping we come out okay on the other side."

"Shit. You're being careful, right?"

"Oh yeah," Mike shakes his head. "He wouldn't hurt me. I know he wouldn't, he... he really cares for me."

Rachel smiles sweetly. "I'm happy for you, Mike."

"Thanks."

"Okay then. Advice. Well, I guess." She taps her well-manicured nails against the desk and bites her lips. "Okay, I had this Dom once. It didn't work out for this very reason, so I'm not sure it's very helpful. But…"

Mike nods.

"Sometimes when he needed to let his frustrations out, he'd try to play rough, just like you said. And I didn't really mind it up to a certain point, but sometimes he would get kinda scary and I'd safe word out."

Mike's eyes narrow.

"He was really good about stopping, but it didn't fix the problem. And after a while I suggested he go to this club he liked to visit before we met." She blushes. "It was one of those places where Subs who want to get hit hard go to do it safely. It worked out okay, but when he started seeing another Sub behind my back, I called it quits. We weren't a good fit. Obviously."

"You think I should get him another Sub? I mean, a Sub to let him take it out on, instead of me?" Mike's insides are knotted, worried she caught his slip.

"No!" she says without missing a beat. "God, no."

"Then you think…"

"Listen, I can't tell you what he needs, but on those rare occasions when a Dom has no idea what they need, it's on us to try and figure it out. My point is that although I wasn't what my Dom needed, I'm happy I helped him find what he did need. Does that make sense?"

Mike nods.

"And even if you're wrong, it's worth trying. Just… don't do anything you'll regret later."

* * *

Mike sees Harvey only briefly during the last few hours that day. Once when he sneaks a peek down the hall and into his office where Harvey is sitting with his forehead in one palm, flipping through something on his laptop, and again when he spots him following Jessica into a conference room on the other side of the office. Mike bites his cheek and keeps working.

That night, Mike has been home for over three hours before Harvey straggles in. He'd made them both dinner and left a plate to warm up for Harvey. He organizes the mess of document copies Harvey left on the kitchen table and files them in his office where they're out of sight. As soon as Harvey comes in the door, Mike stands, goes over to him silently, and starts taking things out of his hands. He keeps his eyes down as he works. First he takes the keys that are clenched too tightly in Harvey's fist, then the briefcase. Harvey stands still while Mike empties his pockets of his cell phone and wallet, both of which he sets in their correct place on the entryway table. Harvey lifts up his arms as Mike helps him out of his jacket. When Mike begins to kneel down for his shoes, Harvey pulls him up by the arm, kisses him on the corner of the mouth, and walks around him. He doesn't even look back as he disappears down the hall and into the bedroom where Mike can hear the door click shut.

Mike looks around the living room, lost.

On the counter he spots the plate of food covered in foil. Thinking it's as good a next step as any he goes over, uncovers the slices of meatloaf and vegetables, and pops it in the microwave. He leans over and stares in at the spinning dish and humming machine long after he realizes it's probably not so good for his eyes. At least, his Gram always told him that.

Using a tray Harvey keeps around for breakfasts in bed, he sets the plate out beside a fork, napkin, and glass of red wine he'd uncorked for himself. He pads barefoot with his offering and stands awkwardly at the door.

"Harvey. Can I come in?"

There's a long silence before Mike hears a cough and mumbled sound that probably signifies permission.

As soon as Harvey sees the food he grins marginally and shakes his head.

"What a good boy. But, no. No, thank you."

"You should really eat."

"I'm fine." He rubs at his face until the skin goes pink. "Besides, it's not your job to take care of me."

Mike wants so badly to raise his voice, get pushy, demand that Harvey stop being such a dickwad and let someone do something good for him. Instead he breathes deep, steadying himself into a decision he'd made hours ago while he was sitting at his desk staring at his reflection in the monitor, quietly panicking.

After setting the tray aside Mike walks over and stands just within touching range.

"You were going to punish me," he says. It's not a question.

Harvey looks up. "What?"

"I was disrespectful. I know I was."

Harvey stares at him with confused concentration. "What are you talking about?"

"This morning."

"Mike, I'm not in the mood to play right now. For fuck's sake."

Mike rings his hands nervously.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'll accept my punishment. I was out of line. I'll wait in the office for you."

Harvey's brow evens out in what he thinks might be understanding. Mike turns and walks on shaky legs to the office where Harvey recently installed two sets of rings into the wall. One set is high on the wall, near the ceiling, just high enough to keep a Sub exactly Mike's height restrained with his arms overhead, and his feet teetering between a grounded heel to floor and a less steady tiptoe. The other set is installed a little lower, intended for a kneeling Sub. On the floor below the rings is a square pad not unlike Mike's old yoga mat.

Mike strips from his nightclothes, which he folds up and sets on the desk chair. Finally, with a few sets of deep steadying breaths, he faces the wall and kneels to wait. This might be a terrible idea, but it's worth trying. That's what Rachel said, right? Something good could come from it. _Should_ come from it.

Usually Harvey makes Mike wait in anticipation for a long time before joining him. When it's about play, the nervous anticipation is meant to heighten his arousal. However, when he's facing a real punishment, when getting whipped is meant as a deterrent for bad behavior, the time allows Mike to contemplate what he did. He thinks about why he deserves getting hurt, and most importantly, how he's going to accept what he can't avoid so that they can move on with Mike forgiven of his transgression.

Like the time he spent all evening with Trevor and came back hoping Harvey wouldn't notice the smell of Subspace Jenny was smoking, or the guilty look in his eyes from disobeying a clearly understood rule. Or when they got into a fight and Mike locked himself in his old room all night, just to make a point. Harvey even let him do it. Mike had expected him to knock at the door, but instead he waited for Mike to come out of the room and apologize. When he punished Mike for that it was with surprisingly measured patience. Mike hasn't tried that again, not because the punishment was bad, but because he'd already learned his lesson before he wandered out the next morning. Trying to deal with something alone is miserable. Mike hopes Harvey figures that out soon.

Mike is on his knees less than five minutes before he hears Harvey come in and stand behind him.

"Are you sure?"

Mike nods. "Yeah."

Harvey is quiet, observing. "Knees or feet?"

Mike thinks about this. If he's restrained standing it'll give Harvey a broader range of motion and wider distribution of lashes. Although Mike will surely have to endure abuse to his ass and thighs, which will make sitting extremely difficult for at least a week, it would significantly decrease the severity of punishment to his back. If he kneels, Harvey won't be able to concentrate on his thighs at all, and his ass only minimally. His back will be bruised, that's unavoidable, but in the long run he'd rather deal with sleeping on his stomach than the unbearable discomfort of trying to sit naturally in a desk chair.

Also, when Mike kneels he usually lasts longer. It's not the most encouraging thing, considering, but perhaps it's best for Harvey tonight.

"Knees," he decides with finality.

Harvey crouches down behind him and fastens his wrists up over his head to the lower manacles. Mike offers each wrist willingly and without resistance. It's a stark contrast to the first time these restraints were used for punishment. That time, it took all Mike's will power to release his indignant control. If he remembers correctly, he was stiff as a board.

Harvey disappears into the bedroom where he can hear the wardrobe being opened, shifted through, and closed. Somehow the sounds are almost too loud in the stillness.

When Harvey is standing behind him again, Mike tucks his head down, spreads his legs just enough to expose his slightly raised ass, and thrust his back out as if in offering.

"What's your safe word?"

"Subpoena," Mike says without hesitation.

"All you have to do is say it."

"Yeah, I know."

"You don't need to count. This isn't-" he's breathing deeply. "This isn't a punishment."

Mike adjusts himself, wanting desperately to move past the verbal reassurance. He wants to tell Harvey that talking him through this, reassuring him of what he already knows, is not going to make it easier for him to get tanned for no reason. He needs to just fucking do it already.

"Yes, sir," is all Mike can settle on saying without truly adding anger – anger actually directed at _Mike_– to what he's already going to have taken out on his back. He grips the chains under each palm and grits his teeth against the first lash. He exhales. It's only a belt. Stinging pain? Yes. Some bruising? Yes. But nothing like the whip or flogger, both of which Harvey has used before, albeit sparingly.

The second lash curls around his side and stings the sensitive skin near his belly. He hisses, but doesn't cry out. Somehow, knowing that this isn't about him, about his mistakes and failings, makes it so much easier.

The fifth strikes at the base of his spine, just above his ass. He jerks, but remains silent.

Now, that's not to say that he isn't going to come apart near the end. His will is stronger than his body, no matter what the reason for getting whipped is.

The eighth and ninth come down over his ass making him keen.

The difference is that usually he senses Harvey's disappointment in every strike, and although that disappointment is literally being whipped out of Harvey and into Mike's flesh, allowing for forgiveness in its wake, the anguish of being in this position when his Dom would rather he had been good enough to not be, is unbearable.

The thirteenth lash is a little too high, almost across his shoulders. He yelps. Harvey's distracted, sloppy. He waits several beats for Mike's safe word before starting again.

When they play at this, that's a different story altogether. Then, it's fun. The whippings are given with only a hint of pain and a concentration on pleasure, teasing, and the anticipation of joyful lovemaking when Mike is unshackled.

Spankings are also a much a different story. They both learned about a month into the collaring that Mike gets too much pleasure out of even a punishing spanking for it to do much good. It works well for reinforcement, but for a real lesson it's ineffective. It was around that time Harvey installed these restraints.

By the nineteenth Mike has to stop thinking and start gritting his teeth. He can't remember Harvey ever going past twenty-five. Maybe thirty.

The skin at the small of Mike's back is starting to throb the most. He knows without doubt that he'll have purple bruises where his ribs are widest, just under his arms. He's not sure how Harvey will react to that. A punishment deserves it. Play doesn't result in it. This is something else entirely.

Somewhere around twenty-eight Mike actually shouts out in pain. Harvey waits again for the safe word. When it doesn't come and Mike pushes his back out again in offering, Harvey falls back into his slow but steady rhythm. Through the fog Mike realizes that the strength behind the lashings has severely lessened. Harvey's arm is coming down almost lazily over his back. Judging by the heavy panting breaths behind him, the movement, even if it's lost its urgency, is doing something.

Mike is crying silently when he realizes it's stopped. He takes big shuddery breaths, his surprisingly calm mind trying to talk his body into joining, but it isn't obeying. His wrists are suddenly free and falling down to the ground where he collapses sideways, catching himself on his elbow. When he looks up, expecting to see only the undone chains hanging before him, Mike finds Harvey slumped down against the wall, panting. His arms are laid over his knees with the belt still gripped in one hand. His eyes are trained solidly on Mike.

"Come here," he whispers.

Mike exhales and crawls shakily until he can collapse across his Dom's lap, face buried under his chin. Harvey lays the belt aside and his hands touch Mike's back, whisper soft. Mike hisses at the contact and Harvey's hands move to a more comfortable place on his thighs. Although Mike is trying not to sound like he's crying he can't hold back the hiccup.

"God, Mike." Harvey says, his own voice shattered. He lifts Mike's chin up gently. At first Mike can't look him in the eye, but when he does he's glad of it. Harvey takes his face between two palms and begins kissing him, almost frantically.

"You're so good to me. So incredibly good."

Mike lets Harvey press their cheeks together. "Did it help?" He croaks out.

"Yes."

Mike nods. "Then it was worth it." He wipes at his face where the tears are starting to dry.

They embrace each other, Mike rubbing his face against Harvey's shirt every time he feels like crying, and Harvey kissing any part of him he can reach without disturbing his back.

Mike had worried he might resent Harvey for choosing to do this, but he doesn't. Not at all. If anything, he feels closer to his Dom than he ever has before. Harvey always knows what he needs. He knows when and how to give him those things. He even knows when to stop, but Mike… Mike just takes whatever Harvey gives him, hoping he's good enough. For once, Mike took initiative. He identified what his Dom needed and gave it to him. He took the weight off Harvey's shoulders and carried it on his own, just as Harvey had done for him so many times.

Mike smiles. It doesn't hurt so much when you know you're carrying it away from the person you love the most.

Yeah, love. Undoubtedly, love.

The fact that the first time the knowledge is crystal clear to him is just after being whipped, doesn't exactly make sense, but he doesn't care.

He leans back and smiles where Harvey can see it.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Harvey asks, awed.

Mike leans in and lets Harvey hold his limp frame. "You took care of me. Even when I didn't deserve it."

Under different circumstances, Harvey might argue with him. He might insist that Mike always deserves being taken care of, but now, he seems to understand, maybe for the first time, what it feels like to be cared for even when you feel desperately undeserving.

Harvey caresses his cheeks, leans their foreheads together, and lets their breath mingle in the space where no more words can be found.

* * *

_Chapter contains 100% consensual impact play/punishment with belt. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting. I appreciate it more than I can say. Unfortunately this chapter is less smutty than the previous, but that's a short-term problem that will be remedied in the next installment ;)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Mike is laid out on their bed, face down, as Harvey rubs a healing lotion with something cold and soothing mixed in, like Aloe Vera. If this had been a punishment, he wouldn't have been given it. But it isn't, so he luxuriates in the pampering treatment.

Harvey has been very quiet.

"It probably looks worse than it feels," Mike says, turning his head on the pillow. It's not exactly true, but he hopes he sounds reassuring.

Harvey says nothing as he continues to gently massage the lotion into his skin. Finally, he caps the bottle and tosses it aside. Although he's careful to rest his trembling hands where the skin isn't so raw, Mike can still feel every twitch.

"I want to hold you so bad, but I can't."

Mike looks over his shoulder and, not minding how much the effort will pull at his skin, he gets up on his knees and turns to straddle Harvey's lap.

"I wish you wouldn't move."

"You want to hold me, but wish I wouldn't move. What's it going to be? You can only choose one." He smiles. "I should point out that I've already moved, so the second choice is pretty much shattered."

Harvey holds his arms up, both now unclothed. Mike burrows into his embrace and nudges him with his nose when the arms fail to fall down around him.

"Come on, Harvey. I made it through thirty-five lashes. I think I can stand the discomfort of your arms against me."

"God. Was it that many? Fucking hell."

"It's cool. You hardly put anything behind the last ten or so." He smiles but Harvey doesn't look consoled. "So, do you want to talk about it? The hearing, I mean."

Harvey shakes his head. "Nothing to say. I lost, just as I predicted. Jessica looked at me all day like I was the greatest disappointment of her life, and I spent the rest of the time feeling like she was right."

Mike wants to say, again, that Harvey's not a disappointment. That Jessica is a fool to judge him on one defeat when he has a nearly flawless track record, but none of that is going to help. "Well then, we'll make sure you win the next one with flying colors. No. With fireworks and a fucking marching band behind it. Then this will all be forgotten."

Harvey nods. "Yeah. Okay."

Mike bites back a groan when Harvey hugs him tighter, determined to not let his physical discomfort get between them right now.

"I was so lost. It scares me how affected I can be by… it's just a job, right?"

"Your work means a lot to you. You've always loved it."

"Yes, but not as much as -" he pauses and Mike shifts, squeamish about the word constantly left unsaid between them. "Thank you for that, but I promise to never allow myself to get so worked up again."

Mike shakes his head. "Don't promise that. I liked being what you needed. It felt good, in a weird way. Still does."

Harvey laughs. "I'm not sure when, but at some point you completely lost your mind, Michael Ross."

Mike kisses him on the lips. "I'll take that as a thank you."

* * *

A week later Mike is pretty much back to new again. His back has healed remarkably well due to Harvey's OCD coddling. While the pain lasted, Mike and Harvey found themselves closer than ever. Mike worried after their conversation that night that as the endorphins wore off and reality set back in, Harvey would grow regretful of what they'd done and Mike resentful despite himself. But the opposite happened – the display of selfless sacrifice has cemented Harvey's trust in his own handling and understanding of their needs, and Mike's trust in Harvey's ability to do so.

On a Friday morning Harvey pets Mike's naked back as they sit at the breakfast counter. Harvey is already fully dressed while Mike remains in the cotton shorts he forgot to take off the night before when he'd fallen, exhausted into bed. The clean up from Harvey's massive loss has taken a toll on pretty much everyone in the office. The good news, however, is that with a lot of convincing and what might amount to the biggest financial hit yet, Leavitt's company will probably stay with Pearson Hardman.

"Want to go out to dinner tonight?"

Mike shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Sounds nice." He smiles as he takes a bite of cold cereal – neither of them willing to stand over the stove, nor even the microwave.

"Jacob invited us. Well, me, but you'll come of course."

Jacob is the Dom Harvey introduced Ethan to at a company gala several months earlier. Despite Ethan's reputation for being flighty, it seems Harvey's matchmaking skills were spot on. He'd found a Dom unique (and rich) enough to settle Ethan down, maybe for good.

Mike sighs and nods. It's not the first time the four of them have been out together, but it is the first time since Mike began to suspect that Jacob no longer believes that he and Harvey are merely co-workers. Co-workers don't go to romantic dinners together unless business is on the table, and with Jacob the avenues for talking about his father's company are pretty much closed. At this point, it's a couples date and Mike thinks Harvey is the only one who doesn't know that. If Ethan weren't so good at convincing Mike that his Dom is more discreet than any he's known – and that's saying something – Mike would have started refusing to continue this farce by now.

"What time?" Mike asks.

"Eight."

"Okay." He kisses Harvey on the cheek as he hurries behind his stool and into the bedroom where his suit is hanging out on the closet door.

* * *

"I heard about the trouble with Peter Leavitt's account." Jacob has a quiet lilting voice that Mike usually associates with Subs. A tone even _he_ sometimes falls into when relaxed and drifting into subspace. On the young Dom, however, it's more like the whisper of a rider calming a skittish horse. Even when Ethan is entirely at ease, he seems hypnotized and entranced by his attentive Dom's sturdy posture and soothing tones.

Harvey perks up and clutches at his thigh in a gesture that would go unnoticed as discomfort by anyone but Mike, or maybe Donna.

"I can't say I have anything redeeming to say on that score, except to ensure my other clients that similarly unfortunate outcomes will not be tolerated again by me, or the firm."

Jacob grins and lifts his wine glass in a toast. The glass shimmers with the reflection of the dim lighting above. "My father won't abandon Pearson Hardman come hell or high water. You know how he is about professional fraternity." Mike raises his glass with Harvey and Jacob as if to secure the appearance of his dominant role at the table.

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he catches Jacob's eye flicking to meet his in ironic amusement.

"Your family's account is extremely important to me. I consider you and your father family, and like family I will fight to protect your interests."

"Yes. I appreciate that, Harvey."

Most would miss it, but when Mike's Dom face is on he's on high alert, so he notices when Ethan's hand gently rests on his Dom's inner elbow for permission to speak. He does so without pushing, tapping, or even glancing up in begging encouragement. The near perfect submissive gestures Ethan has mastered after a lifetime of practice still cause Mike to boil with jealousy and self-doubt. Jacob hums in approval.

"If I might speak for my Dom, there was no intention of testing your loyalty, Harvey."

Jacob nods enthusiastically as the waiter comes to clear away their dinner plates. Up until then, the conversation had been remarkably easy.

"No, nothing like that. I hope you didn't misunderstand. Every so often Ethan starts begging for a night out with friends, and you, the both of you, are some of our favorite company."

Mike can't imagine Ethan begging for anything so likely to cause his Dom jealousy. Skillfully manipulate, however, maybe. He and Harvey have often talked about how strange it is that Jacob would seemingly seek out the friendship of his Sub's former Dom. And yet, there seems to be something decidedly unconventional about the couple. Mike would harbor a bet that they often enjoy the company of other Subs and perhaps even the rare addition of a second Dom. It would certainly explain their generosity in including Harvey in their acquaintance. At some point Mike expects that Harvey will ask him to consider a threesome. He just hopes they'll be at a point in their relationship where his fervent denial will not cause an argument. Sometimes he thinks Ethan looks at him with far too much consideration.

After dinner Jacob encourages Harvey to join them at the club across the street. He and Harvey have been there before, but Mike's discomfort with the proximity to the office makes it impossible for him to relax.

Mike gives Harvey a look that he hopes will convey tiredness, but Harvey misses it completely and agrees to go.

Once inside, Ethan saunters to the counter, pushing aside dozens to get their drinks.

"He's remarkable, isn't he?"

The two Doms lean toward each other in a camaraderie Mike realizes he is instinctively excluded from. Harvey smirks and makes a joke that at once congratulates Jacob on his catch and dismisses Harvey as having any interest in the goods.

"You and Ethan have become close in the past few months," Jacob suddenly says in Mike's ear. He startles.

"Not close. Occasional friends."

Harvey has stepped away to help Ethan carry the drinks over, and more than likely ensure it's his card that's put down for the tab. "He talks fondly of your time together."

Mike looks away from Jacob's searching gaze and then snaps back to attention when he realizes his opportunity to be alone with the man is slipping.

"Neither Harvey nor I are competition. You know that right? Because sometimes it seems like you're digging."

Jacob smiles broadly, perhaps even amusedly. "My Sub is loyal. I know how to keep him that way. But that's not why I ask."

"What then?"

"Why can't you believe I'm merely making conversation? We share a, _friend_ as you say. I like to know what he does with the social freedom I allow him, that's all."

"Nothing you would disapprove of."

Ethan hands his Dom a drink and glances, questioning, at Mike. "I'm glad to hear it," Jacob concludes.

"I want to dance," Ethan says matter-of-factly and with unveiled excitement.

Jacob pulls his Sub away from where Mike and Harvey lean against a tall cocktail table.

"They seem happy," Harvey says.

"Yeah, they're a good match." Mike stares at Harvey with longing, observing his gentle smile and relaxed carefree disposition. Harvey returns his gaze, then subtly and discreetly, slides a hand across Mike's hip under the table's edge.

"I wish I could touch you as freely as they do." Harvey leans over to whisper, as if it were possible for anyone to hear them over the vibrating club beat. "I wish I could show you off, let everyone see how perfect you are."

Mike swallows and concentrates on willing away his growing erection. With difficulty he looks away, then steps out of his Dom's reach. "It's not worth it," he says apologetically. "You say so yourself. All the time."

Harvey nods. With an apologetic smile they each go in opposite directions, in search of a Sub to pretend to flirt with for the rest of the night.

* * *

Mike comes up with an idea the next Saturday night while they watch a movie on HBO.

_Casino Royal _with Daniel Craig is on, and even though it's twenty minutes in, and even though Harvey prefers classic James Bond, they decide it's better than the alternative - a failed rom-com with Katherine Heigl.

"You know, you look a little like Daniel Craig."

Harvey snorts. "No I don't."

Mike looks up from where he's laying with his head against his Dom's shoulder, and observes Harvey's square angular face and expressive lips. "Yeah, you're right. You're much better looking."

Harvey smiles down at him, pulls him in, and kisses him affectionately on the temple. "Thank you, baby."

Mike sinks back into Harvey's embrace and watches as the scene opens to a panoramic view of Bond recovering from injury on the shores of Lake Como.

"Wow. That's beautiful," Mike whispers.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Harvey replies. "One of my favorite places in the world."

"You've been there?"

"Yes."

"Like... for vacation? You take vacations?"

"Pearson Hardman offers generous paid holidays. Of course I do."

"Cool. It's just," he grins, "you seem like more of a Miami kinda guy."

"Italy has a unique way of making you forget your worries."

Mike stares at Harvey's faraway expression, an idea already forming in his mind.

That night, after Harvey falls asleep, Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and plucks his laptop off the floor where he'd left it charging. Sitting in the glow of the screen, Mike starts rapid fire googling vacation hot-spots in Lake Como. Expensive ones.

After sifting through a dozen unimpressive five star hotels and three spas clearly designed for retirees, he finds something truly special mentioned on a forum. It's a highly exclusive, top security resort with a price tag to match. There's no website, but with a detective's eye he riddles out its contact info and even finds a couple of pictures on someone's unprotected Facebook. Judging from one Dom's forum comment, it's not more than Mike can afford, especially considering that Harvey has returned every rent check he's tried to sneak into his bank account for nine months, and rarely lets him pick up the grocery and dinner-out tabs. So, even after his monthly payout for Gram's medical, he still has an absurd amount regularly depositing into his high-interest savings.

It's called _Villa Roissy_, and it's perfect. It sits on a picturesque lake coast, not unlike that in the film, but unlike every other place he's looked at. It's not known only for it's gilded staircases and extraordinary pool sides, its prestige appears to be its discretion. Roissy is where people can pay to go and guarantee no one is watching. It's a resort that caters to couples seeking private - and if they choose to take advantage of the incredible nightclub, cocktail lounge, or "playroom", _not so private_ company. He grabs his phone off the nightstand and types out a message to Donna. The woman never sleeps.

_MR: We need a long weekend. I want to get Harvey out of the city. WAY out. Can his schedule handle it?_

He doesn't even set the phone down, he just sits cross-legged looking at the little screen while Harvey breathes deeply beside him.

_DP: What's your story for why you both need the time?_

_MR: Was hoping you'd mastermind that part._

There's a longer pause this time, but when the reply comes, it makes Mike smile like a kid.

_DP: Wed 7/10-Sun 7/14. We'll say he's vacationing at his timeshare in Florida. You're taking advantage of his absence to visit family. Now go to sleep before you get in trouble for plotting!_

God. He knew it. Harvey is totally a Miami kinda guy.

* * *

The next morning Harvey nudges him while he eats an egg and sausage scramble at the counter.

"You're smiling," he says with amusement while running a hand gently along his exposed thigh. All in all, Mike has gotten used to hanging out naked in the morning. Harvey likes it and he has to admit there's something freeing about being without clothes.

Mike pops an orange slice into his mouth and smiles around it. Harvey laughs, shakes his head, and goes back to reading the finance section.

He spits the orange out onto the plate and bites his lip.

"So, I might have done something you'll get mad at me for."

Harvey looks over at him with confusion. "Something that will make me mad, but makes you positively gleeful? What could that be?"

"Oh, okay! So then you promise you won't yell?"

"No."

Mike pouts.

"Tell me."

"You remember how you said you love Lake Como?"

"That was last night. My memory is in working order, yes."

"Right. So... well, I want to go there. I mean, I want to take you there."

"Is that a fact?" Harvey grins and chuckles. "That's a sweet thought, Mike. Maybe sometime." He ruffles Mike's hair and Mike frowns.

"No. Not sometime. Now. In two weeks, actually. July tenth. I already emailed the place." Mike says this all with indignant finality, most of his joyful energy diffused by Harvey's dismissive and vaguely condescending attitude.

"What!?"

"I still have to book plane tickets or whatever, but-"

"What the fuck, Mike?!"

"I thought you'd be excited."

"I briefly mentioned that I enjoy going to Lake Como, practically in passing, not even twelve hours ago and now you've already planned a trip there?"

"Too quick?"

"What do you think?" He stands up and snatches the plate from in front of Mike.

"Hey, I wasn't done."

"You're fine."

"But I need to put on weight, isn't that what you're always saying?" He reaches for the retreating plate but Harvey isn't paying him a stitch of attention.

When he comes back in he's practically storming. "When did all this happen," he asks, swirling his hands between them.

"After you fell asleep."

"Really. And you didn't think I'd have an issue with you pretending to fall asleep and then sitting up and planning something, _literally_ behind my back."

"Donna did say something about me getting in trouble for plotting."

"Donna knows about this!?" Okay, he's definitely shouting now.

Mike narrows his eyes in defiance. He refuses to get in trouble for doing something nice for Harvey. There are no rules, no understandings, and no rational reasons why he can't take his Dom on a vacation. He _is_ the other half of this relationship!

"You know what," he says, standing up and pointing a finger at Harvey. "I'm allowed to make my own plans. I make a shitload of money you don't let me spend, and now I've found something I want to spend it on. If you want to come with me, great. If not, then, I guess I'll just go alone."

He turns on his heel and walks confidently to the bathroom where he slams the unlocked door, just to underscore his point. As he looks in the mirror it occurs to him that he might have looked kind of ridiculous pulling Dom while bare-ass naked and still rumpled from when Harvey attacked him in bed that morning. But, whatever.

He washes his face in an attempt to clean off the frustration, then starts brushing the coffee taste from his mouth. Harvey opens the door and leans against the frame. They stare at each other in the mirror.

"Okay. I'll bite. What's the place?"

Mike brushes for another thirty seconds at least, just to be a pain in the ass, spits, wipes his mouth, and sips from the glass cup on the counter.

"It's called Villa Roissy, and it's wonderful."

Harvey looks taken aback. "Villa Roissy?"

"Yeah."

"You told Donna about this?"

"No details, just that I wanted to take you out of the city. Why?"

"And you said you emailed them?"

"Yep."

"And you got in?"

"Uh huh."

"How?"

Mike turns around and gives him a questioning look. "What do you mean, how? I have the money, they have availability. Isn't that how it works?"

"At a hotel, yes. At Villa Roissy, no."

"You know about it already?! Damnit!"

"This is why it's best to actually discuss plans with your partner before making them."

"Yeah, well. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Mike. It was thoughtful. It was."

"So I should cancel."

"No, don't cancel."

"But I wanted it to be a thing I did for you. And now that's ruined cause you've been there before."

"I've been there before because I have impeccable taste, and apparently so do you because you found it in one night on Google. I'd been to Lake Como twice before I was told of it. I requested a reservation three times before they let me in."

Mike sits on the edge of the bed and pulls on a pair of boxers. He points at a pair of jeans sitting on the chair and Harvey goes to get them. He shakes them out and hands them to Mike. If they weren't so distracted, he realizes Harvey would have scolded him for attempting to direct him.

"So what... then I shouldn't cancel?"

"Tell me first how you got a reservation."

"I don't know, okay! I found a forum where someone said that I should email booking inquiries with my party names and dates and they would respond with availability."

"Ah."

Mike buttons his jeans and sits back down with a humph. Harvey hands him a t-shirt. "So I got a reservation 'cause they thought I was you. That's what you're saying."

Harvey doesn't respond.

"Un-fucking-believable."

"Mike, language."

"I try to do something on my own, and what happens? I pick a place that isn't even new, isn't even a fucking surprise, and. -"

Mike sits down next to Mike and grabs his hands firmly.

"Calm down and control your mouth, Mike. I'm being very generous here."

Mike exhales but doesn't apologize.

"It's a perfect vacation, okay? We're going."

Mike looks at him dubiously.

"I want to take you there. The more I think about it, the more I love the idea."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

Harvey strokes the inside of his wrist and smiles mischievously. "Well, for starters, it's the most beautiful place in the world and I'd love to see you there." Mike blushes. Harvey leans in and says against his ear, like a secret, "but mostly it's that I can flaunt you there. I can take you out with your collar exposed. I can kiss you, touch you, even _fuck_ you, anywhere I want, anytime I want."

Mike's face is hot and his breathing labored at the insinuation.

"Fuck me?"

"Anything I want, Mike. Anything and everything I've ever wanted to do to you I can do there."

"You can do anything you want to me here," he says as if buying himself time from what suddenly seems like a terrifying and intimidating prospect. For fuck's sake, he'd known they'd be _a little_ more open about their relationship, but, he hadn't thought far ahead.

"Yes, but I want to show off. You know what a cocky son of a bitch I am. I like to flaunt what I've earned, and you - you are my most prized possession."

Mike lets Harvey kiss him and push him down to the bed. At least with his hands and mouth busy getting under Mike's belt, he won't be able to see the panic on his face.

Shit. What had he gotten himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm terribly sorry about the longer wait this time. I've been trying to buy myself time between posts to work on upcoming chapters, but things are moving slowly no matter what I do. Yikes! Send positive kudos to cure my writer's block!_

_Thanks again for all the wonderfully supportive comments and encouragement! The next chapter brings us to Italy where the majority of the fic will take place._

_-poppy_

* * *

"How do you feel about... exhibitionism," Mike says as he stabs a piece of steak and arugula salad at a bistro on Lexington.

Rachel snorts around the mouthful of diet-coke she'd been sipping. She buries her face in a napkin and moans.

"Shit. That really hurt," she whines.

A second ago Mike had been a bundle of nerves, but now he can't help but want to laugh. She wipes at her face as demurely as possible considering that there is probably snot running down her chin.

Finally, she sets it aside, crosses and re-crosses her legs, and smiles at him as if nothing had happened. "Why do you ask, Mike?" she says, too nonchalantly.

He shrugs. "I think the, uh, Dom, I'm seeing might be into it."

He stabs at a baby potato pathetically with his fork as it rolls around on the plate, dodging his every attempt. When he realizes Rachel has said nothing, he looks up and finds her staring at him with wide eyes.

"Oh god! No, Rachel, I wasn't suggesting... I didn't mean you and Donna. I wasn't propositioning you."

She exhales.

"Sorry. No. I just mean. I don't know if I'm into it and I wanted to, you know, talk."

Her shoulders visibly slump in relief. "That was weird."

"Sorry."

"Okay, so. You wanted to talk because... I seem like the kind of Sub that likes to bend over in front of a crowd?"

A Dom at the table next to them turns and stares, then ever so slightly shifts to block their kid from the neighboring conversation.

"I don't mean that. It's just not something I've done before, even with a Sub or whatever. And I thought maybe I was being a prude."

"No. Not a prude. Pretty normal actually. And yeah, I've done it before. And honestly, I don't really see the appeal. But that's me and not everyone's the same."

He hums in acknowledgment and they both go back to eating lunch as if there isn't this awkward thing hanging between them now. When they get back to the office, they must be acting unusual because Harvey stops him as they pass in the hall to inquire, and he's pretty sure he sees Donna leaving Rachel's office looking stumped.

* * *

Mike barely makes it in through Ethan's front door before he slumps down exhausted. His legs feel like jelly, he's sweating through every inch of fabric, and the edges of his running shoes are digging into his feet. He rips them off and falls back against the wall, panting. Ethan is standing before him, running in place and looking fairly well put together. Fucker.

"Do you need water or something?" he asks.

"Yeah."

When Ethan comes back with two cold bottles from the fridge he at least has the decency to sit on the floor and breathe heavily. Mike finishes the whole bottle in one go and crushes it between his fingers.

"I meant to tell you," he says. "I can't make it next Wednesday. Harvey and I are going out of town."

Ethan does something with his lips that's supposed to be cute and suggestive. Mike just blinks at him.

"Where?"

"Italy."

"Oh my god. Wow."

"Yeah."

"Aren't you excited?!" Ethan throws his sweaty hand towel at him. Mike cringes and pushes it off his lap.

"Yes."

"Really, because you don't sound the least bit enthusiastic."

Mike shrugs.

"Alright, Ross. Spit it out."

Mike takes a final deep breath that finally satisfies his lungs and rubs a hand around the back of his neck to wipe the stinging sweat from his collar rash. "Do you guys often... play, in public?"

"Of course." Okay. Not exactly surprising.

"Like... everything?"

"Define everything."

"I mean, aren't there things Jacob only does with you in private?"

"No, not really. Want some more water." He stands up and picks the bottles off the floor as he disappears into his tiny fluorescent kitchen.

"Right. Thanks." His friends are being really fucking unhelpful.

* * *

"Wanna watch porn?" Mike blurts out just as Harvey is passing him from the shower to the bedroom. Mike is sitting on the bathroom chaise, legs crossed, pretending to be enthralled by an article in _Forbes_.

Harvey stops with a towel clutched over one hip. "Come again?"

"It was just an idea." He shrugs like it's no big deal and goes back to reading. Harvey stares at him, completely at a loss for words, hangs up his towel and walks over to give him a hand.

"Well, I couldn't possibly pass up such a tempting offer."

Mike takes his hand, smiles, and is guided to the living room couch. Harvey eyes him mischievously then goes to open the porn drawer - bottom, left side of the entertainment center. Mike has always known about it and often sneaks a peek at the covers to peruse what Harvey's assorted kinks are. Nothing too wild, honestly, but nevertheless enlightening.

"Can I pick?" He stands behind Harvey and runs a hand lightly over his hip. He looks over his shoulder and nods. Mike drops to his knees and bends over the neatly organized collection. He runs his finger over the spines as if searching. He doesn't know exactly where the right one is. The one with the old chipped case that has obviously been opened dozens of times. Harvey kneels beside him and begins running his fingertips down Mike's tailbone, one finger making lazy circles around the dip in his spine.

He finally pulls it out and lays it face up. Harvey's hand stops.

"That one?"

"Yeah."

On the cover is the tantalizing curvature of two well defined Doms sandwiched around a Sub wearing a too short and fraying university t-shirt.

Harvey squeezes his shoulder and pulls out another. It looks generic. A Sub laying her head demurely on the knee of a proud and erect Dom. "Let's try this one instead."

Mike shakes his head. "You said I could pick. I choose this."

"It's a little intense."

"I've watched porn before. It'll be fine."

Harvey looks it over contemplatively, shrugs, and then goes to pop it into the DVD player.

They settle into the couch together, Mike nestled into the curve of his Dom's arm. Harvey hands him a bottle of his favorite beer and takes a tumbler of scotch for himself.

"You've been looking through my collection, haven't you?" Harvey whispers teasingly in his ear as the cheesy opening music begins.

"Are you mad?"

"Only if you watch one without me."

Mike nods, pecks him on the lips, and rivets his attention to the screen.

The film opens with an awkward looking Sub who is undoubtedly hiding a lithe and flawless body under too many layers of baggy clothing. As he arrives for his first day at a nondescript public university carrying one too many moving boxes, he's tripped by a chortling Dom walking carelessly down the front steps with three gorgeous and adoring Subs on her arm.

Harvey is barely paying attention and is already massaging Mike's thigh as he sips his scotch.

The Dom looks over her shoulder as the nameless Sub tumbles painfully to the ground, then immediately turns to help him up. First they smile at each other as the mood music orchestrates their spark of attraction, then she invites him to a party she's throwing that night at her off-campus apartment. He agrees.

"Bad idea," Mike says.

"Terrible idea," Harvey confirms lazily. "But it's just porn. Don't worry." He moves his hand down the inside of Mike's thigh, teasingly close to his cock.

That night the Sub - Zach - arrives at an apartment buzzing with activity. He knocks and is greeted by a Sub with big fake tits and a female Dom wearing a strap on. Mike looks at Harvey as if to say _really? this stuff cannot possibly turn you on._

"Just wait, it gets better. Besides, you picked it."

"Conceded."

Zach smiles awkwardly and tries to turn away until the Dom from earlier - Sarah - pushes her way through the door with an encouraging smile, throws an arm around him, and leads him in through the intimidating crowd. Everyone seems to turn and look at him. Even the Doms already occupied by other willing and beautiful Subs turn to give him a once over.

Someone reaches out and tugs on Zach's oversized letterman jacket. "Show some skin newbie!"

Before Zach has time to protest Sarah has a hand around the offenders wrist, pushing him away. "Hands off!" she snaps. "He's mine." Looking back her expression softens. "Don't mind them," she says soothingly, "they're jerks. Besides, it's just you and me, really." Zach smiles and lets her lead him to a couch in a far corner of the cramped living room.

Harvey is sucking and tonguing Mike's neck, causing Mike's cock to sit hard against his thigh, reaching for Harvey's hand on his knee. Mike had expected to learn something from the film, something about what turns Harvey on about public play, but he hadn't expected to get turned on himself.

Zach sits down with his hands twisted together in his lap. The camera zooms in as Sarah slides in beside him and whispers, "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Yeah?"

She plays with the buttons of his shirt teasingly. "Been wondering what's under here."

Zach smiles awkwardly. "Nothing special," he stutters. "I'm... pretty ordinary."

"He's gorgeous." Mike says sarcastically.

Harvey hums against his neck. "Maybe he doesn't know that yet."

"Not likely."

"It's a fantasy, Mike. Go with it."

Sarah shakes her head and laughs like he's the silliest and most naive thing she's ever seen. "Mind if I take some of these layers off and see for myself?"

Zach gapes like a fish and looks around at the crowd. A camera sweeps around to show that no one is really looking. They're all busy in their own little groups.

"They'll think you're beautiful too," she says. "If they wanna look."

Zach nods numbly and without further ado, Sarah starts stripping him down, layer by layer. When he's in nothing but his jeans she pulls out his incredibly big and perfect dick, licks her lips, and swallows him down as she bends over his lap.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Mike moans. Harvey bites down on his neck hard and finally wraps his hand around Mike's own erection.

As Sarah slowly takes Zach apart, the camera zones out the people around them. They seem to disappear and become nothing but white noise. Mike groans when Harvey replicates the action on screen and bends down over his cock. Mike leans his head against the back of the couch and breathes raggedly.

"Keep watching," Harvey orders.

When Sarah has finished him, she sits back on her heels and licks at the cum dripping down the corner of her lips. "You taste amazing."

Suddenly there's another Dom sitting beside Zach. "Can I have a taste too?"

Zach looks over at him, then back to Sarah. "What do you think?" she asks him. "Rick is great at sucking cock. And even better at licking ass." Zach, who is, incredibly, already hardening again takes a deep breath and nods.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a part of Mike is protesting, rejecting the idea of a Dom who would say "it's just us," and then share so casually with another. But right at this second, with Harvey's mouth around his cock and the prospect of watching another close up of a Dom's mouth stretched wide around Zach, Mike doesn't give a shit. He curses, thrusts up a couple times against Harvey's slick tongue, and comes.

The rest of the film progresses predictably. Although Sarah stays right at his side, Zach is stripped bare and shared with an increasing number of appreciative Doms, all of whom are awed by his beauty. By the end, they're in full blown orgy. Mike tries to finish Harvey off with his hand, but Harvey shakes his head. "I want to make love to you later."

Mike stares at him, breathless. It's the first time he's ever used the word _love_ to describe what they do and yet Harvey seems entirely unfazed. Mike gulps.

The final scene is of Zach, weeks later, walking up the same university steps, confident finally in himself and his body.

Harvey turns off the TV, the lights, and locks the door. The entire time he keeps Mike's hand clasped in his. When they get to bed Mike wraps his legs around Harvey's waist as his Dom enters him with slow, rhythmic strokes.

"Harvey?" he whispers.

"Hmm."

"You would never. I mean," Harvey thrusts up at his prostrate and he gasps. "If someone asked for me -"

"Of course not. You're mine." He thrusts in hard and Mike moans. "No one gets to touch you but me."

Mike exhales shakily and smiles up at the ceiling as Harvey comes inside him.


	5. Chapter 5

The day before they leave for Italy, Louis stops by Mike's cubicle.

"What is it, Louis?" Mike asks without bothering to look up.

"I heard the good news. Seems both you _and_ your idol will be out from underfoot for a few days. The possibilities are endless."

Mike shrugs.

Louis wipes a hand over his greasy looking bald spot and smiles toothily. "So where are you lovebirds off to? I never took Harvey as one to play for the home team, but you - well, you are another story all together."

Mike drops the pen he'd been tapping against his desk and glares at Louis over the cubicle wall. "Are you actually trying to get me to file a sexual harassment case against you Louis, because god help me, I will."

He puts two hands up and chortles. "Cool off, Mikey."

"Don't call me that."

"I was just fooling around, you know me." He winks at one of the submissive coffee runners as she passes. "I know you have some dull family obligation."

"Correct."

He reaches over and ruffles Mike's hair before finally walking away. Mike's skin is tingling unpleasantly as he smoothes his purposeful disarray back into submission.

After packing up for the night Mike has forced himself to forget about Louis and is smiling from ear to ear as he strolls to the elevator.

"You look happy Mr. Ross," Jessica comments as she appears beside him. "I thought you were visiting an ill family member."

His smile falters and he coughs. If he didn't know Jessica better he'd think she looked genuine. "Yeah. No. I am. It's just that I've been looking forward to catching up with some cousins that I haven't, you know, seen in awhile and -"

She grins knowingly and shakes her head just as the elevator opens. He follows reluctantly.

"You know Mike," she says as the elevator passes the 28th floor, "I do not run a high school. You don't have to lie to the teacher to get time off."

He gapes at her stupidly. "I wasn't lying. It's just that-" _it's just that I AM lying but your overactive dominance is making it really hard for me to do it well!_

The doors open and Jessica nods at him once before sauntering into the lobby. Mike exhales and knocks his head against the elevator door.

* * *

Harvey packs surprisingly light, Mike learns, for a man obsessed with clothes. He does, however, lie out two pristinely pressed and stunningly expensive suits to be zipped into a garment bag. Mike drops his toothpaste somewhere in the depths of his unorganized case and looks down at Harvey's selection. He hums.

"I guess I should have something nice too, huh?" He goes over to his side of the closet and stares dispassionately at the row of suits, none of which he was stylish enough to choose for himself.

"I have that taken care of."

Mike looks over at Harvey who has walked to the bedroom door. Behind it he now notices another garment bag.

"More suits, Harvey? Is that really necessary?"

"This isn't just any suit." His mouth twitches up as Mike comes over and tries to reach for the zipper. "No peeking," he orders.

"What is it?"

"I had Rene tailor something for you. Don't worry about it."

Mike narrows his eyes at Harvey suspiciously but then remembers that Rene doesn't do the kinky stuff - leather, straps, harnesses, bridles, etc. It can't really be all that bad.

Harvey grabs his ass shamelessly as they pass back and forth between the bathroom and the suitcases. "Pack your tightest clothes," he says huskily in his ear. "No need to hide that body under sweatpants and jerseys this weekend."

* * *

Their flight leaves earlier than Harvey would have ever booked if it were up to him, something Mike is reminded of five times the next morning while they both shuffle around the apartment sleepily, trying to down their third cup of coffee as if tricking their bodies into believing that 3:30am even vaguely resembles morning.

Harvey is too nice, apparently, to ask Ray to do something as crazy-insane as drive them to the airport at quarter after four, so they get a taxi.

"We have first class, though," Mike says from where he's resting his head on Harvey's shoulder. "We can sleep there. The chairs turn into beds."

Harvey hums.

Mike congratulates himself on being right all along to have booked a 6:30 flight because check-in and customs are pretty much dead apart from the trickle of business travel radicals. They even get early boarding and a free mimosa.

As soon as the stewardess isn't looking he exits his weird walled-in-seat-compartment and knocks on Harvey's little door. It slides open. He's reading a newspaper, legs crossed.

"You look like a stereotype," Mike says before plopping down next to him and shoving himself under Harvey's arm.

"They'll make you go back for take-off." His fingers are playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"And after take-off? Mile high club?"

Harvey snorts. "Much less fun than it sounds. All around painful actually."

"I should have known you'd have already joined."

"It's not an actual club, Mike."

Mike downs his mimosa and looks out through the door in search of the Sub who had walked by not three minutes ago with at least ten more on a tray. When he fails to find anyone he pushes the door button and climbs into Harvey's lap with a grin. Harvey laughs deeply and strokes his hands appreciatively over Mike's ass.

"Can we make out then?" he asks. "At least until someone comes and yells at us."

Harvey pulls his head down with a wide smile. "You're incorrigible."

The "thank you" Mike had been planning to come back with is swallowed up by Harvey's eager mouth.

* * *

"Italy," Mike announces as they stand before Villa Roissy looking out at the lake, "is fucking beautiful."

Harvey pulls him into his embrace and kisses his temple. "Yes. As ineloquent as that description was, I have to agree."

Because of the time difference it's already early evening and the sun is setting behind the mountains and red rooftops. A bellhop is silently organizing their luggage and garment bags into the hands of at least three additional employees.

Mike follows them with his eyes. "Do they always send out an entire army to greet guests," Mike asks in a whisper.

"You spent ten thousand dollars for this weekend, they sure as hell better."

Mike shrugs.

After being bowed and scraped to during the entire check-in process Mike is ready to snap at the first person who continues to get between him and the bed in which he plans to sleep off his jet-lag.

By the time a Dom with a thick accent and one of those ascot things that tuck into your shirt neck opens their suite, Mike is literally ready to punch something. Not only is he tired and weirdly sore from what should have been a luxurious plane ride (probably the result of all the frottage he'd insisted on in Harvey's seat), but he's also fed up with people talking only to Harvey and acting like Mike isn't even here. He paid for fucks sake! And who cares if Harvey's a regular or whatever, Mike does have the right to be included in room service decisions. He tells Harvey this the second the guy lets them into the room and shuts the door behind him.

Mike is breathing raggedly. "And another thing - why is everyone acting like I'm invisible?!"

Harvey's lip is twitching with humor. "Mike, turn around." Harvey takes him by the shoulder and twists. Mike gasps.

The room is stunning. Or rather, the _living_ room is stunning. It's huge, with plush elegant furnishing, a piano, full bar, and a dining area in front of the floor to ceiling french doors leading out to the terrace. Through an arch to his left Mike can see what must be the biggest king sized bed on the planet towering on a raised platform, surrounded by breezy white linen curtains. Wow.

* * *

After walking around with his mouth hanging open, touching everything in awe, Mike plops down on the white couch and groans. "Why does travel suck so much?" He can hear Harvey pulling the crystal stopper out of a bottle of scotch at the bar.

"You're just not used to it. When was the last time you left the country?"

Mike snorts. "Never."

"What?" Harvey exclaims. "This is your first time out of the states and you didn't think to mention it?"

Mike shrugs. "No, but I'm happy it's with you," he says with a smile.

Harvey sits down beside him with one arm around his shoulder. "Thank you, baby, but you still should have told me."

"Why? Didn't matter."

"It would have mattered to me, _a lot_. Just, assume when it comes to you I want to know everything."

Mike nods and lets Harvey kiss him until he's so worked up he's buzzing with that anxious anticipation of subspace. Just when he's about to crawl into Harvey's lap, the lips retreat.

"No," Mike wines. "I wanna fuck." Both of their scotches are forgotten on the table and the way the lights over the lake shines in and cut through the darkness is irresistibly romantic. Too bad Mike is feeling decidedly more carnal than romantic.

"I'd like to talk to you."

"'Bout what?" Mike mumbles while nuzzling his Dom's neck.

"This place is more than you anticipated."

"Uhmhmm."

"You've already begun to see it. I just don't think you understand."

"'Kay."

Harvey fists Mike's hair and pulls him away. His face is flushed, his lips swollen, and his eyes heavily lidded. He looks so fuckable it's a wonder Harvey is able to keep talking.

"Go take a shower, put something on, and come back here ready to talk."

Mike groans.

"Do what I say or I'll make you sleep on the floor."

His eyes narrow. "Is that a real threat, 'cause I paid for that bed."

"Yes, and if you feel the need to mention it again I'll have the staff downstairs bring a mat up for you to spend the rest of the weekend on. I happen to know they're rather thin. I could even ask for a cage, if I felt so inclined."

Mike's eyebrows shoot up and the pretty pink color of his cheeks pale.

"Say you're sorry and do as you're told."

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispers.

Harvey nods and points to the bedroom.

* * *

In the bathroom Mike slumps against the closed door. He feels wretched. Not only is he tired and itching for subspace, but now he's feeling guilty and as though he's disappointed Harvey. He wanted this weekend to be perfect and he's already managed to screw it up, and no more than an hour after arriving. That's just typical.

He rips off his clothes and kicks them into the corner of the bathroom where they land in a heap that would make Harvey scowl. He stares at the pile grumpily before relenting. He picks them up one by one, folds them, and sets them neatly on the bathroom chaise. Mike then washes his face rigorously with the expensive product provided on the vanity.

As he stands up and looks at his tired eyes in the mirror, the water drips down his neck and under his collar, tickling and irritating the skin underneath. He reaches under it to rub and winces at the sting. Biting his lip, Mike unbuckles the collar and peels it away. It sticks slightly at the back and when he turns to look he can see a bleeding sore.

Fuck.

Ethan was right. He should have told Harvey about this weeks ago. But then, Harvey had been so frazzled, practically unstable during the Leavitt case. And once they'd gotten through it, after the whipping... well, Mike can't think of a worse time to let Harvey think he's been neglecting him. That Mike is hurting in some way.

It's not even Harvey's fault! This is Mike's problem. He let it get this bad and - he fingers the sore and yelps quietly – it's probably infected. Shit.

And now? He can't tell Harvey now. He'll make him take it off for the weekend. And that - that is the most unacceptable thing imaginable. To be uncollared, away from home, and on thin ice with his Dom. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Mike grabs his little bag and digs into an inside pocket where he'd hidden Ethan's salve. He keeps forgetting to use it. Maybe it's not too late.

After treating the area with as much care as he can manage, he cleans the collar and fastens it back on over the wound. If you look carefully you can already see the redness peaking up over and under the buckle, but Harvey is so used to seeing it on him, and his hair has grown enough to cover it. Besides, Harvey doesn't do that thing he'd done the first few weeks after his collaring. When he'd finger the leather idly, kiss over, under, around it. Even gaze at his neck with pride and unveiled adoration.

No, he doesn't pay that kind of attention to him anymore.

* * *

Mike can smell the food Harvey must have ordered as he opens the door and walks down the split level stairs and into the living room - barefoot and in one of the big fluffy robes that were hanging on the bathroom door.

Harvey is pouring himself wine. The glass beside it has ice water in it. Mike winces. It's never a good sign when Harvey starts sobering him up. Mike's anxiety, however, is diffused when Harvey turns around and smiles at him.

"Come eat."

The food smells good and Mike's focus suddenly shifts to his stomach. Harvey pulls out a chair at the dining room table where he sits gratefully and uncovers his dinner. Harvey places the water before him for which Mike thanks him with an embarrassed mumble.

They eat quietly. Every once in a while Mike stops to gaze out the open balcony doors at the glistening lake, the yachts, the distant sound of music playing down the shore. When he can't stand it anymore he looks up to see Harvey staring at him intently. He drops his gaze again and shovels at a piece of sliced chicken. When there's nothing left but a pile of capers floating in lemon cream sauce, Mike reluctantly puts his fork down. He's not sure why he feels so wretched. This trip was supposed to be four days of romantic utopia, full of sex, candle light dinners, pool side cocktails, and the occasional bump and grind at the private clubs. He hadn't expected to be such a quick disappointment. And besides, who does Harvey think he is to pull the leash so tight that -

"Mike, come here."

Mike lifts his head up from his palm and stares.

"Now."

He stands, wraps his robe up tighter and circles the table. When he gets to Harvey's chair he almost steps on a pillow he hadn't noticed sitting to the left of him. As Mike ponders its connotations, Harvey takes his hand.

"Here at Roissy, Subs rarely sit at the table."

Mike continues to avoid eye contact, suddenly tied up in knots about what this means for him. Is humiliation going to be his punishment? It's a soft-limit and Harvey doesn't push his limits as punishment.

"Things are done differently here, Mike. Couples come to indulge in a more…" he strokes another hand under the opening of Mike's robe and down his hip, "traditional lifestyle."

Mike tilts his head back and swallows a groan when Harvey cups his ass and squeezes.

Harvey pulls his hand out and glances down at the pillow. "Kneel for me."

If Harvey had asked him to do it an hour ago he'd be as indignant as fuck. But right now the suggestion is a relief. He sinks to his knees and buries his face gratefully into Harvey's thigh. Gentle fingers stroke through Mike's hair, tugging at the lengthening locks and scratching lightly at his scalp.

"We need to talk about this. I thought of doing it before we left, but I didn't want to make you unduly anxious."

Mike tilts his face up, eyes closed, begging for Harvey's hands on his face. Harvey strokes him gently over his lips and eyes and the soft hollows below his cheeks. Mike blinks his eyes open and frowns.

"I'm sorry."

"You're not in trouble."

"I was. Earlier."

"No. Not even then. You were taking too many liberties and you needed to know there are consequences here. Just as there are at home."

"You weren't serious, were you? About the cage?"

"Roissy offers a diverse range of provisions."

"So, you'd want something like that? You'd want to put me in a cage? Like a dog."

Harvey tilts his head. "Tell me what you'd do if I were to demand that of you."

"I'd safe word out," Mike says defiantly. "And then I'd _demand_ that you shove your ass in there instead." For a second Mike is afraid he's going to get back handed. It's happened once or twice before when he's defiantly overstepped his boundaries. Fortunately, Mike wouldn't really care this time. He'll speak his mind on the subject if it's the last thing he does.

But to Mike's surprise Harvey smiles and lets out a guttural laugh. "Good boy. I'd expect nothing less." Mike grins and laughs nervously, letting his anxiety out in little breaths of relief.

Harvey gazes at him and strokes his temples as the humor of the moment dissolves and they both fall back into the serious mood of moments before. Harvey sighs and looks out through the open balcony doors where the evening breeze is blowing in and cooling their flushed skin.

"Come outside with me. I want to enjoy this with you." He takes him by the hand and leads him outside.

It turns out Roissy really does anticipate everything because the chaise lounges are more than wide enough for two to curl up in together. Mike lays his head against Harvey's chest and blinks lazily out at the glistening lake.

"Can we just stay here?" Mike says. "I don't want to go back to New York."

"We can come here as often as you like. I'm always welcome and we can afford it."

Mike sighs. "Yes, please."

He's just starting to doze off, relaxed by the sound of water slapping against the dock, the smell of Harvey's after shave, and the seductive warmth of a Dom's protective arms, when Harvey decides to throw a curve ball at him. Typical.

"I need to talk to you about how we're going to proceed this weekend," he says.

"Whaddya mean?" Mike grumbles.

"There are two ways to approach a stay at Roissy. Both are acceptable."

Mike groans and props himself up on his elbow. "What's the approach that includes the most of this?"

Harvey smiles. "I guarantee both options will keep you in my arms."

Mike shrugs. "Then I don't care. Proceed as you will," he says officially.

"I'm not letting you get out of this conversation just because you want to fuck and sleep." Harvey pulls on Mike's arm as he tries to collapse back into his arms. Mike groans pathetically. "You'd think after all this time, you'd have learned your lesson about whining."

Mike shakes his head. "Sorry. I reserve the right to complain about trivial things. You knew that before you collared me."

"No reason to not strive for self-improvement."

"You're a kill-joy."

"You're a child."

They smile at each other until Mike manages to look like his attention is focused on his Dom.

"As I've been trying to explain, Roissy is not an ordinary retreat."

Mike nods. "It caters to Doms and Subs hoping to indulge themselves in a semi-public atmosphere with the guarantee of secrecy."

Harvey nods. "That's correct, on the surface, but did you think to look into it a little deeper?"

Mike shrugs. "What else is there to know?"

"Quite a lot, actually."

"Okay."

"Italy, although it's become increasingly modernized over the last half a century, still values traditional submissive behavior."

"Yeah, okay. I knew that. Lots of couples here still have full-time dominance agreements."

"In addition to secrecy, guests of Roissy commonly come to indulge in those traditional roles."

Mike frowns. "Are you saying you want me to ask before I can shit and stuff?"

"Don't be crude. You know that's not the point."

"Sorry, I find that kind of dynamic insulting. I didn't know you were into that."

Harvey sighs and runs a hand down Mike's spine. "It's complicated," he says quietly, almost to himself. After a few minutes he sighs, releases his grip on Mike and smiles thinly. "Never mind. Forget about it and enjoy the peace and quiet. I'm just happy I'm here with you."

Mike humphs and lays down again. He tries to shake off his annoyance at being asked to do something that Harvey knows, or _should_know, is way out of his comfort zone. He's barely a year into his first relationship with a Dom. Fuck, he's not even comfortable being a Sub publicly and yet here he is, ready and willing to let this little sphere of people in on his secret. And now what? Harvey wants to strip away his remaining freedom? Even after the doors are shut at night?

Against his cheek Mike can feel Harvey breathing deeply, the muscles of his chest tensing with each breath. Harvey is frustrated. Angry even, but not angry enough to scold him. That should be enough to settle his mind, but it doesn't. If there's one thing Mike has learned over the past few weeks it's that Harvey shouldn't be allowed to stew.

"You're mad," Mike prompts.

"No. Not at all."

"Then you're disappointed."

"A little. But not at you." He kisses him on the head and nudges him up. "Bedtime. You're exhausted."

Mike mumbles and follows him sluggishly into the living room, past the uncleared dinnerware and up the shallow steps leading to the bed. He tosses his robe on a chair by the window. He can hear Harvey turning out lights, locking doors, and stacking plates. When he comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later with clean, well, _cleaner_ teeth, Harvey is finishing a conversation with someone at reception. Something to do with breakfast. He thinks he hears the word _massage_ mentioned but he doesn't want to get his hopes up. Mike slides under the otherworldly sheets and moans.

"Should I be jealous?" Harvey says, appearing beside him.

"Yes."

He clicks off the last lamp and pulls Mike into his arms. "Then I guess I'll have to fight the bed for your attentions."

"Or you could just share my attention _with_the bed."

"Amicable solution. Thank you Mr. Ross."

Mike nods. "Hey. Harvey?"

"Yes."

"Speaking, you know, hypothetically. What would this traditional submissive _thing _entail?"

Harvey dips his fingers into Mike hair before answering. "In a sense -" he falters. "In a sense it would entail very little on your part, and a great deal on mine."

"Are you being intentionally vague?"

"No. I just... I've only done this twice before and both times the dynamic was prematurely understood. I guess I'm finding this hard to explain."

"You want me to submit more," Mike concludes. "I get that. And... I guess I can play along if you want."

"Not more, Mike. Completely. And for you, I think complete submission is outside what you're capable of." He pats Mike on the thigh. "Let's forget all about it."

"What do you mean _not capable_? Fuck that, I'm totally capable."

"It's not a contest."

Mike pushes his torso up and glares down at Harvey. "I'm not competing! I'm just... I'm just disagreeing with your ridiculous assessment."

"Noted." Harvey's grinning.

"You don't believe I can do it?"

"I think you can absolutely do it, with proper preparation, but frankly your present attitude convinces me that now is not the best time."

Mike's eyes narrow dangerously. "I want to do it."

"No."

"I can do what I put my mind to, Harvey."

"I agree."

"Tell me what to do and I'll learn! If you expect me to approach anything new without both doubt and determination, you'll be constantly disappointed."

Harvey searches his gaze, looking for something he must not be able to find because after a few moments he exhales.

"If we start this, you have to hand over the reins, Mike. This isn't a game. This isn't something you get bored with, sick of, or even embarrassed by. _Total _submission, Mike. Do you really understand that?"

"No. But I can learn it."

"It means being uncomfortable without complaining. It means keeping your mouth shut when you want to say something so badly you think you'll scream." Mike is about to say again that, yes, he gets it and he can handle it, when Harvey grabs his chin and pushes his jaw closed. "It means accepting punishments for things you've never had consequences for before. It will be difficult and frustrating but if it's done right – it will be very rewarding."

He slowly lets go of Mike's chin.

"Think about it and give me your answer in the morning." Harvey lays back but keeps his arm open for Mike to slide into his embrace. While Harvey falls asleep fast and seemingly carefree, Mike lays awake feeling conflicted and antsy with the adrenaline of righteous indignation.

* * *

_**To all my readers who are also on Tumblr, I want to announce my new blog!**__ It is under the same name __**poppypickford**__**. **(I would provide you with a helpful link, but hates sharing. I have faith in you to find it!)__. It is a multi-fandom page where I plan to reblog and post fandom related content. It is a significantly easier way to contact me and is where I will be keeping my most updated rec lists. I will also begin announcing chapter updates and new works via the blog. If you feel so inclined, please follow me! I always reciprocate._

_As always, thanks for reading! You're all wonderful. Each and every one of you ;)_

_-poppy_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to everyone who joined me over on Tumblr! I was pleasantly shocked, actually, at how many of you are willing to let me invade your dashboards! _

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter. There might be a slightly longer wait on the next one as I'm still working on it with my wonderful betas. _

_-Poppy_

* * *

Morning dawns in Italy earlier than Mike would have expected. Or maybe it's just that here, as opposed to New York, there are no high-rises buffering the full force of the sun's power as it shines in through the windows and pierces his eyelids. Mike opens one eye grudgingly and looks across the empty bed. He closes it again. It would be the coward's way out to just stay in bed and ignore the inevitable, but there are only so many sleepless hours left to him before Harvey will inevitably come in and force the issue.

Mike sits up and sighs. Glancing around, he finally spots Harvey lounging on the balcony reading a newspaper. Beside him is one of those douchy little espresso cups. Well, they are in Italy.

Mike rubs at the corner of his eyes as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He grabs the throw blanket from the foot and bundles up inside it before shuffling across the hotel room.

"They brought you The New York Times?"

Harvey smiles and reaches out for Mike's hand. He offers it gratefully and laughs when Harvey tosses the paper aside and pulls Mike astride his lap. Underneath the blanket he's still naked, so when Harvey pulls the edges aside and gazes at him, it make Mike flush pleasantly. There's something decidedly thrilling about being in an exposed place, but knowing he's seen only by his Dom.

"You're so beautiful, you know that," Harvey says. His eyes are intense and his expression serious. Mike exhales and his cock swells under Harvey's gaze. He rubs himself pleadingly against Harvey's still-clothed cock, expecting to be scolded, but he's not. Harvey dips his hands under the blanket and holds onto his hips. He squeezes what sparse fat and muscle can found there as he leans in to whisper in Mike's ear.

"Have you made your decision yet?"

The fine threads of Subspace already coiling around him make the question so much less burdensome to answer.

"Yes, sir. I still want to try it."

He hums, licks Mike's neck and pulls him closer to his erection. "Good boy. I'm proud of you."

Mike smiles against his Dom's neck.

"Do you understand what will be required of you?"

He shakes his head. "Not specifically, no."

"Then you have two options. The first is that you may concentrate on the new rules now, and as a reward I will fuck you."

Mike groans.

"The other is that you may jack off now, while I watch, and then after we will talk.

Mike's cock is now painfully hard and Harvey knows it. Waiting, exposed and astride his Dom's lap for _anything_ will be trying. Especially knowing that if he fails to concentrate, he'll certainly be lose his reward. But, he's been desperate to have Harvey inside him for days now, and he's not going to pass up the opportunity.

He growls with frustration upon making his decision and sits back on Harvey's thighs. "I'll wait, sir."

Harvey nods. He's pleased. When Mike tries to pull the edges of the blankets around him, Harvey stills his hands and smooths them out so that as they speak he has a full view of Mike's body. He gulps.

"The first thing you must remember is that this is temporary. After we go home, things will return to the way they were. Our rules, my expectations for you, and your understanding of how I will respond will be unchanged, unless you wish to negotiate something new."

Mike nods, trying desperately to focus on Harvey's eyes.

"For the next three days, however, I will expect you to understand and obey the following. First, that there is virtually nothing you have assumed permission to do. If I tell you to sit, you sit until I tell you otherwise. It is a test of your submission that you trust me to understand what you need without you asking for it. The only exception to this is if you need something urgently that I could not reasonably predict, such as the bathroom. In response to your crudely put comment from yesterday - no, you do not need to be specific."

He grins at Mike as his thumb continues to caress his hip.

"The primary rule that you need to concentrate on, because it will be more difficult than you imagine, is that you cannot beg – for anything – and that includes body language as well as words. If it helps to keep your eyes shielded to avoid doing so, you may. The most difficult part of this rule is that it will include the moments we are engaged in a scene. I demand complete trust and submission regardless of your wants and desires. Understood?"

Mike nods.

"You showed me just now that you are willing to sacrifice immediate satisfaction for reward. That was very good."

Mike smiles.

"Because I know you too well, you need a second rule. No back talk."

"Obviously."

Mike smiles at the joke but Harvey isn't laughing. His lips wilt and he clears his throat. "Okay, I get it. Sorry, sir."

"I will be respected at all times. This exercise will not work if you allow yourself to snark, and it will fall apart completely if I let you."

Mike nods.

"If you do anything that I perceive as defying my wishes, commands, or rules, whether they be explicit or implicit. You will be punished. That is non negotiable. If you argue with any of the punishments I give, the punishments you have already incurred will be doubled."

Mike bites his lip.

"You may ask a question."

"Can I know how I'll be punished?"

"You will collect strikes with the paddle for small offenses, but I will not predetermine now how I will punish more severe disobedience."

Mike thinks about this. Harvey knows that the paddle is hardly his favorite. It's better than the cane and _much _less painful than a full scale whipping. However, it is certainly pleasureless enough to be a good deterrent. Mike knew the rules would be difficult, and he knew he couldn't expect to be perfect at this, but something about the matter of fact tone to Harvey's voice makes him wonder how much Harvey expects him to fail at this. Probably _a lot._

"Can I ask questions if I don't understand something you've commanded, or, if I don't understand why I'm being punished."

"You may. But I advise you to be careful and think about how you word your questions. In the past I have had to forbid questions all together because they almost always broke one of the rules I gave a Sub and resulted in even more severe punishment. I will not be lenient in this area."

Mike winces internally at the implication of _other_Subs that Harvey has done this with. But he congratulates himself on hiding it. The tone in Harvey's voice, the coldness of his speech, gives Mike nervous chills. He's excited, more so than he thought he would be by the game, but the change in his Dom is undeniably unnerving.

Harvey exhales and drops his eyes from Mike's worried expression. "If I believe you truly did not see the fault in your question, I will be lenient. But I have to stress the importance of your role in this. You rely too heavily on your three strike rule. I believe... I have believed for a while now that if you stopped to think about your behavior, you would know without my direction what you should and should not do or say."

"Yes, sir." He whispers. "So you think I can do it?"

Harvey looks up at him and smiles warmly. "Yes, I do. I think you will struggle, but I have so much faith in you, Mike."

He puts a hand on Mike's cheek, which he gratefully leans into.

"Will you -" he wants to say _still love me, _but the words are far too weighted for this conversation, so he swallows them - "Will you forgive me if I screw up?"

"Of course. I'd forgive you if you safe-worded out the first day."

Mike smiles and says nothing at all as Harvey runs his hand down his neck. He's not sure they've already begun, but he's determined to prove to Harvey that he'll be better at this than expected. As Harvey's hand runs down his torso and into the springy hairs above his cock, he doesn't so much as groan or buck. But he does have to bite his tongue when Harvey runs one finger over the leaking head.

Harvey glances up with a grin. "I didn't say we'd started yet, show off."

Mike smiles and curses his traitorous cock when it twitches pleadingly against Harvey's hand.

"I'm practicing, sir."

"I can see that," Harvey says before pulling him in with a hand around the neck for a deep searching kiss. Mike wants to wrap his arms around his Dom's neck, pull him in, hump against his touch. He wants to pull Harvey's hair and bite his tongue. He wants to beg so bad, but he doesn't.

When Harvey thrusts his tongue between his lips in an imitation of sex, Mike whimpers despite himself, but that must be okay because Harvey seems spurred on by the sound. With one hand he reaches under Mike's thigh and fingers him dry. The friction is intense but not unpleasant. Even with one long finger inside him he can't help but want to fuck it, with or without lube.

"You said you want to practice?"

"Yes, sir," he sighs.

"I'd rather we get started. No time like the present."

He leans his forehead in the curve of Harvey's neck and bites his lip to prevent the embarrassing squeak. The dry finger has become two and it's enough to make him crazy.

"Yes. Sir."

"Good. Go get on the bed. Hands and knees, ass raised, forehead down. Leave the lube beside you."

He nods and with shaking legs lifts himself off his Dom's lap. He realizes too late that Harvey kept hold of the blanket and that he's standing outside, exposed. He wraps his arms around himself and looks out over the water to at least four yachts floating close to the shore.

"One strike for hesitating. Go."

He jolts, bites his lip, and hurries in through the door.

Once Mike has settled himself on the bed, lube sitting neatly beside his knee, he takes a moment to collect himself. He knows why he did it, and it's not just for Harvey. This, unlike the whipping, is not self-sacrificial. Here, four thousand miles away from New York what would have threatened his security and submissive boundaries seems remarkably... arousing.

As Harvey lay asleep the previous night Mike's imagination took over and what had seemed like a stifling contest of will was beginning to show its benefits. He might be losing control over his vacation, but so what? His anal retentive tendencies never made him all that happy before, so who's to say it'll do so now? Harvey knows what he needs. He also knows what Mike wants. He knows if he goes along with this, proves himself capable and willing, eager even, Mike has no doubt that at the end of the day he'll be rewarded with more than he could have ever procured for himself.

Harvey comes up behind him and runs both hands down Mike's exposed ass. Mike presses back into the touch. Opens his thighs wider.

"Two strikes, Mike," Harvey whispers huskily.

Mike flinches. Oh yeah, _begging._

"There's a fine line between responsiveness and pushiness. I can tell the difference."

He doesn't sound angry, just informative. He digs his fingernails into Mike's flesh until he can't help but yelp.

"There. _That _was a response."

"Yes, sir."

Mike can hear the bottle being uncapped and the wet sound of Harvey's thick fingers warming it before it's pressed into his hole with three fingers at once. The skin there still remembers the edge of pain he'd endured minutes before when Harvey had fingered him dry. But now the cool slickness soothes him and the sure caressing hand on the small of his back comforts and assures him.

"You're beautiful like this." Harvey whispers.

Mike peeks over his shoulder and catches his Dom's eye. "Thank you."

Harvey tears his gaze away from Mike and returns it to where his fingers are working steadily in and out of him.

"I want you to hold yourself open for me."

The thought makes him blush, but he doesn't question the command. Mike lowers his cheek to the bedspread and turns his head so he can hold his weight up with his shoulders, then reaches behind himself to obey.

Harvey's voice cracks around a groan. "Fucking perfect. If you could only see yourself."

His face is red hot with the burn of humiliation and the pleasure of praise. He wants to flip on his back and pull Harvey down over him, urge him on with his lips and the pull of his thighs, but he can't. He... doesn't need to.

Hot breath against his hole startles Mike, but the surprise turns into a heady groan of grateful anticipation. Harvey has done this to him once before and never again. They hadn't even talked about it, but Harvey couldn't have missed how hard it made Mike come. Harvey licks him from balls to tailbone, making Mike moan pathetically into his pillow and his fingers tremble as they hold himself open for his Dom. Harvey caresses his fingers away and replaces them with his own. Mike grips the sheets gratefully and rides out Harvey's relentless rimming until he's coming in thick explosive spurts across the bed. When he's fallen to his stomach, careless of the wet spot he's left, Harvey glides into him, thrusts hard half a dozen times, and follows him to completion.

Harvey tumbles onto Mike, one leg and arm still grasping him. Mike has barely caught his breath before Harvey is pulling at his shoulder, flipping him over so they're chest to chest, and kissing him.

"Perfect," Harvey says in an awestruck voice. "Perfect."

He pets and kisses his boneless Sub, repeating the word like a mantra until they're breathless with the pleasure of each other's closeness.

* * *

Mike is rolling a question around in his head as he watches Harvey dress from the bed. He'd been told to think and think again about what he says this weekend, and he intends to do it.

Harvey is sitting on a chair across from him tying a shoe. He's in a pair of breezy looking grey pants. He looks up and smiles at Mike.

"Do you like doing that to me?" Mike asks quietly, deciding curiosity shouldn't be against the rules. "Or do you do it because you know I like it." He knows he's blushing.

Harvey's smile grows. "What do you think?"

It sounds rhetorical, so Mike shrugs, smiles, and turns over on his stomach so the sheets slide off his ass.

Harvey throws on a breezy looking linen shirt and buttons it up half way. He slaps Mike on the ass as he passes toward the bathroom. "Today I couldn't have thought of anything I'd like more."

When Harvey comes back with a clean shave and smelling of that minty aftershave Mike loves, Mike is still waiting languidly on the bed for direction. The rule forbidding him his own agency of movement is surprisingly easy to obey. So far. Harvey sits on the bed and pulls at Mike's hand until he's straddled over his lap, his ass in his Dom's palms and Harvey's lips massaging a spot below his left ear.

"You have to understand something, Mike," he whispers. "There isn't anything in the world that I wouldn't want to do to make you feel good."

* * *

Harvey dresses him in a pair of too tight white jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his hips. Never in his life has he felt so obvious as they step out by the pool with Harvey's arm casually around Mike's shoulders. His hair is clean and un-styled, left to hang down around his ears and brush the back of his neck where his collar is fastened undisguised. It's still far too short for a Sub, but there's no mistaking the obvious delicacy of his figure under these clothes, especially contrasted with Harvey's natural bulkiness. Mike feels exposed in the worse possible way and is ashamed to find himself more uncomfortable than he ever anticipated walking out into the small scattering of hotel guests.

Harvey feels the tension in his figure so he pauses in the shadow of a tented area near the outdoor entrance.

"What is it?" He asks.

Mike's eyebrows knit together with the sudden anxiety of not being able to express his worry correctly.

Harvey looks out at the half a dozen couples lounging around the pool with a frown. "Is it too soon for this?" He asks.

Mike wants to say 'yes, yes it is' and be taken back to the familiar security of his room, which is much like their apartment - safe, discreet, enclosed. Come to think of it, he hasn't been out in public as a Sub since before he stopped being one! Sure, Harvey and he sometimes escape to clubs on the borders of the city to be free with each other. But even then he lets Mike go looking enough like a Dom that no one would question him if they didn't watch long and hard enough to observe the way his body curves in the arms of a _real_Dom.

Harvey runs a hand down his cheek. "You can do this, Mike." He doesn't look completely sure of himself, but his words are decisive. Mike chose a weekend that doesn't include arguing, even questioning, so he just nods and lets Harvey lead him into the sun. He expects every person to look up at him, survey him, judge and disapprove of him, but they don't. One Dom lays reading something on his kindle while a lovely dark-skinned Sub in a sheer sarong naps against his side with her head resting on his chest. Another Sub watches delighted as her Dom pulls herself out of the pool with lean muscled arms. When she walks over the sub hands her a half finished cocktail and kneels down beside the chair she falls into. Their soft Italian speech is lost on Mike, but he can hear the affection in it.

Mike exhales gratefully when Harvey leads them to a covered cabana tent. They're unpopular today because of the cool breeze blowing in and the just warm sun that makes not being at the poolside almost unthinkable.

When Harvey has settled down into a chair he points a nervous Mike to the pillow next to him. Mike drops down and exhales gratefully when Harvey runs his fingers through his hair. He pats his thigh and, looking around to reassure himself that no one has noticed them, Mike lays his forehead against his Dom's leg and just breathes.

"You're overthinking this," he says without reproach.

"I know."

They sit in silence for a while as Mike steadies his nerves and Harvey thinks.

"Was this too much for you?" Harvey asks again. "If you can't handle being seen with me, Mike, then I need to seriously re-evaluate this weekend."

Mike looks up at him and then out at the completely unchanged crowd, still entirely absorbed in their own business.

What had he been thinking? He knew exactly what he was getting into. He'd prepared himself for _scening _in public and yet here he is panicking over being caught dressed in Sub's clothes and having a cocktail with his Dom.

"I tend to sometimes run into things head first and without thinking," Mike says weakly.

Harvey hums and sits back against the lounger.

A waitress with short brunette waves and long legs turns into the tent and asks Harvey for a drink order without once glancing down at Mike. Harvey chats with her charmingly, her English is choppy but sweetly melodic. He's still stroking Mike's hair when she turns and walks unhurried to the bar.

"You see," Harvey says. "No one is looking at you, Mike."

"No one is noticing me, you mean," he replies bitterly. "I don't see how that's better."

Harvey pulls his hand away and grunts with annoyance. The loss of contact feels like a slap. "You're unhappy if they look at you and indignant when they don't."

Mike runs a hand up along his knee in apology, but it gets pushed away.

"If you need to be kept hidden away, Mike, tell me now because I won't tolerate this attitude."

The waitress slides back in and deposits two drinks in tall crystal glasses on the cabana table. She smiles, ignoring the tension, as Harvey hands her a wad of colorful Euro bills.

"I don't want to be hidden away." Mike says.

"No. That would be a fucking waste."

When Harvey doesn't look at him, doesn't even offer him the drink sitting untouched beside him, Mike slides from his knees to a sit and rests his head on the edge of the chair. Above him he can hear Harvey sipping something sweet smelling and tapping his fingers against the crystal.

Mike turns his head slightly to peek up at Harvey's expression without letting the other man know he's staring, but all he gets is an eyeful of crotch and a half hard erection. He's never been the kind of Sub who feels like it's his raison d'être to suck his Dom's cock on a regular basis. Honestly, Mike won't deny that he usually gives great head to earn great head, but sometimes, like now, he really just wants to make Harvey come in his mouth. He sighs with frustration and imagines himself in the safety of their beautiful hotel room with the breeze blowing in through the open windows, Mike on his knees between Harvey's legs, Harvey's hand resting against his neck and collar. He imagines the approval quivering in his Dom's touch, the pleasure, the love.

"You're begging." Harvey says with finality.

Mike looks up sharply. "No I'm not!"

"Do you think it's a good idea to argue to with me today, Mike? You've ratcheted up six strikes in the last fifteen minutes alone."

Mike turns his head away grumpily and stares out at the pool where Harvey can't see his pissed off expression. Fuck him! He hadn't been begging! He can have independent thoughts for fuck's sake.

Throwing caution to the wind Mike sits up on his heels and glares. Because, honestly, Mike would prefer a paddle to putting up with this shit.

"I wasn't begging, Harvey," he says in a loud whisper. He opens his mouth to scold Harvey again, but before he knows it his Dom has a hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt and is pulling him up awkwardly over his lap until his ear is pressed to his lips. Mike whimpers.

"Don't add lying to your list of offenses, baby." He runs his other hand over Mike's hair like a pet. "You were begging like a cock hungry little slut. I saw you licking your lips for me." His tone is playful and intentionally dirty, but Mike doesn't know what to make of the erratic shifts in his temperament. Normally he'd smile and play along. Agree with him, pant and lick his lips, and let Harvey call him filthy names, but this doesn't feel like a game.

"I'll forgive you if you tell the truth. Were you or weren't you thinking about my cock."

Mike looks up at his Dom with an edge of defiance. "Yes," he spits.

"Well then. Perhaps I'll be generous and let you suck me. What do you say?"

Mike quirks an eyebrow at him. Is he seriously suggesting... Mike gulps. Knowing that he only has two options, Mike steels his expression tightly while he thinks.

He can go along with it. Do what his Dom has asked of him and blow him several feet from anyone who cares to watch or even join them in the tent as the waitress had done so casually moments before. Or he can safe word out.

Mike glances down at Harvey's now fully erect cock and, despite himself, feels a flutter of excitement.

"Yes, please."

Harvey sinks back into his chair with a grin, as if the tension of Mike's decision is leaking from his own frame. "Good boy."

He runs a hand around the back of Mike's head and lets it rest there, encouraging but not demanding, anticipatory, but not pushy. This is all up to Mike.

Licking his lips Mike blocks out the conversations drifting around him, the splash of water, even the footsteps of a waiter as he passes close to their tent. He reaches up, releases Harvey's cock, big and red with need, and lets it drop down against his shirt.

The position they're in is far more exposed for Harvey than for him, he realizes, but it doesn't diffuse his anxiety. Refusing to think any more about it, he dives, swallowing his Dom's length deeply. Harvey's moan cracks in delighted surprise.

Mike is laying beside Harvey on the lounger with his head tucked under his chin. He's looking out at the other guests, not one of them seeming distracted by the show he'd just performed - and quite well too.

Harvey's still breathing heavily as he tips his chin back and kisses him. He runs a hand down his belly and grips his half hard cock.

"I'm disappointed. I thought I made you harder than _this."_

"Performance anxiety," Mike says.

"Give me a break. You know you give amazing head. I've trained you well. To my exact specifications, in fact."

Mike doesn't say _"you know what I mean",_ or even _"when'd you get so fucking cocky?"_. Instead he just offers his mouth up for another long kiss.

"They weren't watching you, Mike. No one even noticed."

Mike narrows his eyes.

"Trust me. When I want you to be noticed, you'll know it."


	7. Chapter 7

**_WARNING: _**_This chapter contains dub-con and some misuse of safe-words. After reading, please take a moment to read the end notes for information on the responsible use of safe-words. This chapter contains material that some readers might find troubling and or triggery. The end-notes do, however, contain spoilers, so please use your own judgment when choosing to read it._

* * *

After an in-room couples massage Mike lays languid and stupidly happy on their bed staring at Harvey's ass as he dries from the shower. Harvey unzips a garment bag hanging beside the mirror to reveal a cool colored suit.

"Shake out my shirt for me, please."

Mike rolls wordlessly off the bed and saunters, arms stretching over his head as he goes. He carefully pulls out the most appropriate of Harvey's pressed and folded dress shirts, shakes it, unbuttons it, and holds it up behind his Dom. Harvey looks amusedly at Mike in the reflection of the mirror. Even though he's still bare assed naked and usually likes to be fully zipped into his pants first, Harvey lets Mike help him into the shirt, and even turns to present him the opportunity to fasten each tiny white button with careful fingers.

"What a good boy you are," Harvey whispers when Mike finishes. He runs a hand along his naked back.

"You keep saying that."

"That's because it's true."

"May I ask - how many strikes I have now?"

Harvey's lips thin. "No, you may not ask because you're not really curious. You're trying to make a point."

Mike exhales, leans his forehead against Harvey's chest, and kisses him lightly above the nipple. "Sorry."

"You'll always be my good boy." Harvey tips up his chin and kisses him. From beneath the edges of his shirt, Mike can feel Harvey's cock nudging him. He presses in.

"No," Harvey corrects. Mike steps back. With one hand still on his back, Harvey says "We need to get ready for dinner."

Mike nods and helps him into the rest of his clothes. When he's on his knees tying the last shoelace, Mike is still entirely naked and starting to wonder when he'll be allowed to find something for himself to wear. The thought that he might not be able to wear anything crosses his mind and makes him shiver with fear. There's no way Harvey would do that to him. Would he?

Starting to feel genuinely sick, Mike sits back on his heels, swallows sour spit, and looks up at his Dom. Harvey runs fingers through his hair. "You're going to look stunning tonight."

Mike gulps.

"You don't believe me?" Harvey stands and, removing his own garment bag from the hook, reveals another behind it. Mike exhales. "I was going to save it, but, this is our first night here and I want you to make a good impression." He winks and Mike blushes.

Unzipping the bag and pushing it gently off the hanger, Harvey reveals with a grin bordering on elated, a remarkable and more than likely cripplingly expensive Sub's suit... well, crippling to anyone but Harvey.

The light grey fabric glistens and, from where he's kneeling, Mike can smell the richness of the silk. Where his Dom suits are fitted but loose in the thigh, this is skintight. Where Harvey's suits are broad in the shoulder and thick over his chest, this suit dips down over his gently sloping shoulders, and lays open to reveal the delicate frame beneath. Harvey is fingering the jeweled buttons, inlaid with little black stones to accentuate Mike's collar. He removes the shirt beneath and presents it. Mike gasps in surprise. It dips low in the neck and will end just below the collarbone. While most shirts are made of fine, but no less modest cotton, what Rene has tailored for him is nearly translucent. Even through both layers Mike can see every detail of Harvey's displaying hand beneath.

"What do you think?"

"It's beautiful."

"It won't know it's full potential until you're in it."

Mike blushes, but let's himself be dressed - an agreeable repayment for Mike's service to his Dom only minutes before. To his surprise, Harvey doesn't bring him a pair of boxers. He just pulls the pants over Mike's bare cock. The zipper, Mike discovers, is on the side over his hip.

"To show off this," Harvey explains with a stroking hand between his legs. Mike groans.

The shirt flutters down over his chest and lands just above his hips. When the jacket is added the finished product is, Mike has to admit, intoxicating. He's smiling shyly at his reflection.

"I told you. A masterpiece."

Mike turns and looks at his tight round ass peeking out from under the high suit hem. Unlike his Dom suits that keep him covered, this is complimentary in all the right places and doesn't require any artificial padding. And the best thing of all is that Harvey is looking at him with more lust than he has ever received clothed.

"I was worried you were gonna take me out naked or something," Mike jokes. He looks over his shoulder with a smile.

Harvey snorts, pats him on the ass hard enough to make him stumble and says, "No, you're not ready for that yet."

Mike's smile drops and his face flushes cold as he watches his Dom walk away to start gathering their things for the evening.

Shit.

* * *

When a seating host guides them to a table with one chair, Mike isn't surprised. Granted, he'd hoped he would be, pleasantly so, but it seems luck is not with him.

The rest of the dining room is filled with Doms and their Subs in similar positions. Although there are three or four exceptions, mostly older couples who both enjoy chairs at their table, the rest are all in various states of submission on the floor. Most sit on their heels and wait with attention for their Dom to feed them, but some are more complicated. Mike spots a Sub, naked except for a pair of small shorts and collar, standing behind his Dom, attentively waiting to refill his glass, adjust his fork, even meet the wait staff before they approach the table to take over the serving rights. In a dark and somewhat discreet corner of the room, Harvey points out a young woman, naked and hog tied. She's kneeling with her chest tied tight to her knees, her ass forced close to her heels, and her hands wrapped together behind her back.

"Why?" Mike asks.

"Probably a punishment. Possibly a game. It's not our business to inquire."

Mike nods and turns away just after seeing the girl's Dom measure out a handful of carefully diced food, run a hand softly over the back of her head, and bend down to let her eat from his palm.

Mike kneels on his pillow, knowing enough about clothes now to recognize that his suit fabric wouldn't wrinkle if he shoved it in a gym bag overnight. Mike shifts and fidgets, looking around at the other Subs, now at eye level, trying to feel reassured by their shared position.

"Relax, baby," Harvey soothes. "You're doing great."

He exhales and rolls his shoulders in an attempt unwind. It reminds him of the soothing back rubs Harvey gives him when he's too tied up in knots after work to go under.

When he's finally sunken enough into the position he rests his head against Harvey's thigh, grateful that he isn't pushed away.

Harvey orders food for them and he doesn't even bother to perk up and listen to what he chooses. No sooner does the waitress leave than another arrives to hand him a copy of the New York Times. Mike is vaguely indignant when Harvey takes his hand away from Mike to pick up the paper. He props his chin on Harvey's thigh and frowns. Who reads a newspaper at dinner? And not just any dinner. It's a meal that will probably cost them _each s_omething in the triple digits. When Harvey takes no more notice of him he gives up and goes back to resting his eyes with his cheek pressed to Harvey's thigh. From this position, Mike is spared the indignity of facing the dining room - a luxury many Subs are not allowed. Harvey is seated against a wall looking out at the other couples while Mike is kneeling with his back turned. If he looks to his right he can see a Sub reaching up to nibble a piece of something crisp and green from her Dom's fingers, then, before even swallowing, sucking the fingers into her mouth and humming.

"Keep your eyes on me," Harvey says without looking away from his paper. "You'll have plenty of time later to watch."

Mike does as he's told, grateful to be given instruction.

While eating something that seems designed to be finger fed, Mike decides to try the trick he'd observed on Harvey. Harvey sucks in a breath of surprise and pulls his fingers away.

Mike grins.

"No initiation, Mike," Harvey says calmly. Mike's expression doesn't flicker. "You know better. One strike."

He pouts a little while he continues to eat, but counts it as a win when Harvey runs a thumb along his lip to clean up the chocolate he'd dripped there, then pushes his finger in between Mike's lips. He tries not to look smug when his suction goes unpunished.

As they walk out of the dining room together, Mike finally relaxed in the circle of his Dom's arms, Harvey's steps falter. He takes two big strides back and peers with furrowed brow at the elevator.

Mike frowns. "Someone you know?"

Harvey grabs his hand and squeezes. "No. No, I don't think so. Come on."

* * *

They end up in what Harvey assures him is the tamest club at Roissy - a cocktail lounge where smooth jazz plays in the background and most everyone is relaxing casually on the couches surrounding the room. Doms chat with Doms while their Subs carry on their own whispered conversations at their feet, or even on the seats beside them. Mike's breath catches when he spots a pretty but aging Sub lying naked along the couch with her feet held in a Dom's hands. Another Dom comes over with three drinks, which he distributes before taking his own and sitting with her head on his thigh.

"What'll you have?" Harvey asks. Mike looks up at him, startled. He hasn't been given many choices lately and the sudden reintroduction frazzles him.

"Uhm," he mutters while looking around at the rows of expensive and foreign looking liquors.

Harvey shakes his head absently and pats Mike's ass companionably. "Never mind. I know what you'll like."

Mike smiles a thank you and waits patiently until he's led to a dark corner at the back of the club where several couches face the wall. Harvey sits down without releasing his hand. Mike looks down at the floor expecting to see a pillow. When there isn't one he turns to join his Dom on the couch, but before he has time to even crouch, Harvey is clicking his tongue.

"Straddle me." He orders.

Mike gulps. As he looks up and scans the room behind Harvey, chills run down his spine. Unlike at dinner, this reverses their positions making Harvey the one allowed some anonymity, while Mike is forced to confront the daunting room of strangers.

Harvey runs his hand up Mike's thigh. "You can do it. Just pretend we're home. I won't make you look anywhere but at me."

Mike lets out a shaky breath and does as he's told, crawling, inch-by-inch, over Harvey's lap until he's settled back on his knees. Harvey wraps his hands around to support his ass, and then leans in to press a kiss to his jaw.

"See. That wasn't so hard."

"No, sir," Mike murmurs.

"And I won't even punish you for that disobedience. You're ass will be sore enough tonight and I'm feeling generous."

"Thank you." Mike says.

"But tomorrow will be different. Any hesitation like I've been allowing today and I'll give you three strikes."

"Yes, sir," he says, already distracted by a naked Sub walking past him with a leash hanging down the small of her back and swinging above her ass.

"Over my knee," Harvey continues, placing a finger under Mike's chin to recapture his attention, "and right where we are. I don't care how many people there are. You obey me, or you lose the privilege of being disciplined in private."

Mike squirms. "No, please." His cheeks are growing red hot.

"Hey," Harvey says reassuringly. "None of that. Consequences aren't meant to be fun. But they can be avoided. You know this."

Mike should say something in the affirmative, but he doesn't. He just stares at Harvey, fear stricken. He can't hesitate? What the fuck? Harvey tosses him into this thing and expects him to not need to process? Mike turns his face away and breathes through his nose.

"Do you need your safe-word?"

Mike thinks about this. If he agrees to not hesitate, he'll almost certainly fail. No, he'll definitely fail. This isn't something Mike can do and he knows it. And while being spanked is hardly the worst thing Harvey could threaten him with, a public spanking definitely is. Mike doesn't do humiliation. It's a hard limit, and Harvey should know that. Shouldn't he?

But then again, if he uses his safe-word now, things will be tense and weird. And Mike doesn't want that either.

"I want to negotiate."

Harvey raises an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"Yes, sir."

Harvey's eyes narrow as Mike fidgets. "I was thinking, maybe," Mike starts.

"No. You don't get to negotiate. I shouldn't even be giving you options, but I will. Like I said - generous." Harvey looks back over his shoulder at the now thinning crowd of guests, then down the room at two more couches, all occupied by similarly distracted couples. "Here's your option, Mike, so think carefully. It has to be one or the other."

Mike nods.

"You can accept my new rule as I've asked you to do." His eyes are as chilly and serious. "Or you can ride my cock. Right here, right now."

Mike goes cold. His pulse thuds in his neck and he feels faint.

"No, please," Mike whispers. He looks around at the dozens of people, all of which are within viewing range. Should they desire they could watch every moment of it. "Don't make me choose." He chews on his lip until it's sore. "I can't Harvey, I can't."

Just when he feels he's about to have a real, honest to goodness panic attack, Harvey's hands are suddenly on either side of his face, holding him steady.

"Look at me, Mike," he says. "Look at me." He rubs his thumbs soothingly over Mike's cheekbones and hums reassuringly. "It's okay. Take deep breaths for me."

Mike sucks in air, holds it, and then lets it out shakily. His mind begins to clear but he's still grateful when his forehead is guided to Harvey's shoulder. They sit there gripping each other, not saying anything about Mike's embarrassing little attack. As his breathing begins to normalize Mike glances up from Harvey's shoulder. At the other end of the room a woman - a Sub - stands against the wall grinning at him. He sits up fully.

"What is it?" Harvey asks.

Mike looks down at his Dom's concerned expression and then back to the far wall, but she's already gone.

"Nothing. There was..."

Harvey turns and looks over his shoulder. "There was what?"

Now that Mike thinks about it he can't barely remember her, and so what if she was staring at him? Isn't that what the bar is for? For couples to enjoy each other and the sights and sounds of others doing the same? And if her smile gave him chills it was only because of too much oxygen rushing back to his brain. He'd read something about that once.

"Mike, tell me," Harvey demands evenly.

"I thought someone was watching at me," he says.

The tension in Harvey's frame relaxes. "Well of course they were. You're gorgeous." He runs a thumb back and forth over Mike's bottom lip until he opens to the coaxing and takes it gladly over his tongue.

"You sucked me beautifully today," Harvey said. "It's almost worth a reward."

Mike's eyes glisten as he stares at his Dom in anticipation.

"Almost," he concludes. "You haven't quite earned it yet."

Mike bucks up against Harvey's hard clothed cock.

"Make your decision, Mike, and I'll tell you what you've earned."

His stomach sinks. He practically spits the fingers out from between his lips.

"Harvey -" he pleads. "Please. Just... take me to our room and I'll do anything you want. Anything."

Harvey shakes his head. "I know you'll give me anything I ask in private. I'm asking what you'd be willing to give me in public, and I'm getting impatient."

Mike refuses to get worked up again despite the growing heat flushing his cheeks. When he doesn't say anything for several minutes Harvey's eyes blink and a hint of something like terror crosses his expression.

"If," he swallows, "if you need to use your safe-word, now's the time -"

"I'll ride you," Mike says before the rest of the idea can tarnish the moment.

Harvey exhales, smiles, and sinks back into the couch. "Good boy."

When Mike leans in, begging for a kiss, Harvey misses the pushiness entirely and indulges him with warm nuzzles to his cheeks and the corner of his mouth.

"Do you want to know what you've earned?" Harvey whispers.

Mike nods.

"After I've beaten that ass of yours red, I'll lay you out, tie you up spread eagle and rim you until you beg me to stop."

Mike's mouth falls open as he breathes deeply around his arousal. Harvey nuzzles up his neck and bites down firmly on his ear.

"What do you say?"

Mike licks his lips and pants. "I'd never beg you to stop."

Harvey's lips twitch up. "I was expecting a simple 'thank you, sir', but I'll take flattery over gratitude, just this once."

Mike closes his eyes and enjoys Harvey's affectionate attention. It's not that Harvey isn't usually affectionate. He is. It's just that lately, with all the uncertainty in their lives, he seems to have become increasingly neglectful of Mike's need to be held more than he's fucked. Subspace is great, but it's the sense of safety he feels when in his Dom's arms that really gets him through the week.

Pliant from the closeness and scent of his Dom, from the hot ghost of fragrant breath across his face, Mike is unsurprised to find Harvey's hand snake between them to unzip his pants and pull his own cock free. Mike leans his forehead against Harvey's shoulder and watches as it emerges proudly between them where only he can see. Mike takes it in hand and strokes. He's slower than usual, more methodical. If Mike has to do this he want to encourage the slow, quiet coupling they used to enjoy. The kind that's just for closeness and as a reminder of their bond and their... affection.

Harvey tilts his head back and groans low. Mike leans forward to kiss the strong exposed neck affectionately.

"Pants off," Harvey croaks out.

Swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat Mike carefully climbs off Harvey's lap and stands before him. Mike knows he can do this. In theory all he needs to do is get from point A to point B without letting himself dwell on where he is and what he's doing. He focuses on Harvey's half-lidded eyes as he unzips the tight fastener of the sub suit. He lets everything behind Harvey blur away and the sounds of people talking and laughing silence into white noise as he pushes the pants down his hips and over his uncovered cock. He toes off his shoes and steps out with one final resigned exhale. Harvey sits forward a little, his expression unreadable through the fog of lust, and puts both hands on Mike's hips. He rubs his thumbs into the dimples on either side of his groin and then caresses down and over his ass.

With a little encouraging pull Mike positions himself over Harvey again and waits patiently while he's checked with little probing fingertips for adequate lubrication. He's hardly dry, but it'll still burn more than usual, and that's fine. Mike told Harvey months ago that a little pain once in a while can be it's own kind of pleasure.

Harvey reaches between them while leaning forward to whisper in Mike's ear, "Now, baby. Ride me good. I want to see you get that reward tonight." He bites down gently on Mike's ear for good measure before relaxing against the couch, arms outstretched. As Mike begins to rise and lower himself, Harvey exhales. Mike focuses intently on the mole above Harvey's eyebrow, bites his lip, and zones out. At some point Harvey reaches for his tumbler of scotch, takes a sip, and kisses the flavor and subtle burn into Mike's mouth.

After a few minutes Mike realizes that Harvey is far too relaxed and far too content, and will want to enjoy Mike's slow ride for as long as he's able - which can be a _long_ time. So he changes tactics. Sure, it might draw some more attention, but right now all Mike can think about is getting zipped up again so he can get the fuck out of this room.

Mike begins bouncing enthusiastically.

"Fuck." Harvey moves his hands back down to Mike's hips and pushes him down firmly onto his cock every time Mike thrusts. The sensation is intense - even a little too intense. He's still sore from earlier and what little lubrication he'd had is drying up.

Biting his lip in what is beginning to feel more like pain than pleasure, Mike decides to wrap things up once and for all. Without missing a beat Mike pauses mid bounce, just as Harvey was thrusting up to meet him. When Harvey realizes he's stopped he doesn't waste a second. He digs his fingers in hard and fucks up into him with hard, sloppy jerks. It's less than thirty seconds before Harvey is coming with a grunt.

When he's done his muscles relax and his face evens out in post-orgasmic contentment. Mike blinks a couple of times and then shifts his gaze down from the mole to his Dom's eyes.

"Wow," Harvey whispers.

Mike grins and kneels up, letting Harvey slip free, then settles back against Harvey's knees.

As Harvey rubs idle hands up and down Mike's thigh, his eyebrows suddenly knit. "You didn't come."

"No, sir."

Harvey looks troubled. This rarely happens. In fact, it might be the first time. Mike is incredibly responsive to Harvey's touch. Always has been.

"Nerves?" Harvey asks, his expression worried.

"I guess."

Harvey sighs. "We're going to have to get you used to this, Mike."

Mike pales. He thought Harvey would get the memo. He really did. "Yes, sir."

"Well, let's get you dressed." Mike steps off and stands obediently as Harvey holds the pants for him to step into. Once they're zipped up Mike sits on the couch and puts on his shoes. He slips under Harvey's waiting arm to be lead from the room. He braves a quick glance around. No one seems to have noticed him, and if they did they're politely averting their gaze. Just as they pass through the doorway he hears a catcall behind him. Whether or not it's for him is not something he needs to dwell on.

* * *

After a shower Mike is standing in front of their bedroom mirror toweling off his hair.

"Come sit here," Harvey says from the living room. Mike hangs the towel on a hook and obeys. He plops into the white leather chair and grimaces at the slightly unpleasant sensation of damp skin on leather.

Harvey runs fingers through his hair as he passes. He's fiddling with his phone.

"This new phone has shit reception. For fuck's sake, I spend enough. I should be able to depend on global connection." He holds it up closer to the sky like that's going to work.

Suddenly there's a polite knock on the door.

"Come in," Harvey shouts. Mike pushes himself up out of the chair, startled, but Harvey presses him down again.

A pair of bellboys cart in a wheeling tray.

Mike crosses his legs self consciously, but Harvey clicks his tongue before Mike can get one knee over the other.

They take their time arranging what looks like an elaborate dessert spread, communicating quietly in Italian. They're no more than five feet from where Mike is sitting. All the while, he stares at his exposed cock, hot with embarrassment.

After an unreasonable amount of fussing and fussing again, they bow to Harvey and leave.

"You paid them to do that," Mike accuses.

"I paid to have them bring you chocolate torte and gelato." He's smiling as he dips his finger into the center of a perfect sphere of coffee colored ice cream. Harvey cuts off a piece of cake and leans over to feed it to Mike. He chews without looking up.

"Do I need to tell you that the tone you just used was unacceptable, or did you know that before you spoke?" He's cutting off little bits of chocolate and licking it from the fork.

"Did you realize I was sick and tired of being stared at for the evening? Or were you just trying to test me?"

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me, Mike, it's working."

Mike's eyes are blazing. "Well if you're trying to train me to be Ethan, you're failing."

Harvey's lips thin and the fork in his hand drops to the tray with a clank.

"Get up." He takes Mike by the upper arm and lifts. Mike stares at him defiantly. "Over the arm."

Mike twists out of Harvey's grip and walks around the side of the couch where he lays himself down, ass over the raised couch arm, feet spread, cheek pressed into the cushions. He continues to glare at Harvey.

Harvey must have been planning to do this here because he only has to walk to the bar to find the paddle. It's relatively wide and thin and made of a slick high quality wood. Something Harvey must have requested from the hotel. The thought makes Mike blush despite himself.

Harvey strides over, then pauses where Mike is looking up at him with a hard, defiant expression.

"How many strikes have you earned?"

Normally Mike would be squirming, desperate to get on with things so he can remove himself from the awkward, exposed position.

"Nine," he says. "That I know of. I'm sure your count is higher."

Harvey nods and starts moving behind him.

"I don't know why you ask," Mike says, eyes following him. "You'll double it anyway."

Harvey's jaw clenches so tightly the veins in his neck bulge. Mike gulps and turns his head the other direction. He doesn't want to see how white knuckled Harvey's grip has become. He's not scared of him, not really. Just pissed. Pissed that Harvey made him do something when he knew Mike was two breaths from his safe-word. He made it through and is proud of himself for it, but shouldn't have Harvey noticed how unprepared he was? And then with the waiters… Mike thought he was safe. Home.

Mike jumps when a hand settles on his lower back instead of the paddle. Harvey's nails dig briefly into his skin before relaxing. Mike looks over his shoulder.

Harvey is leaning against him, head down, arm loose at his side with the paddle slipping from his fingers.

"Harvey?"

When Harvey doesn't respond for several long moments, Mike pushes himself up on his elbows and turns to look back at him with concern. "Harvey, can you just get it over with? I'm fine. Seriously."

Harvey sucks in a breath as if snapped out of a trance, and then takes a big step back. His jaw is still tight and his face is flushed. He looks over Mike as if he's not there, then turns and walks toward the bedroom. Mike pushes himself to a stand.

When Harvey passes the bar he tosses the paddle on the ledge where it slides to a stop, just barely falling off the edge.

"Harvey!"

"I'm too angry with you," he says as he climbs the few stairs and starts peeling off his suit jacket. "It's irresponsible for me to handle a paddle right now."

Mike wraps his arms around himself to fend off a sudden chill. He starts to approach Harvey, but by the time he's in the bedroom he has disappeared into the bathroom.

Mike waits on the bed, feeling wretched. When Harvey emerges in a towel, Mike stands.

"Harvey," he says with remorse. "Harvey, I'm really sor -"

"Not now." He rips off the towel from around his waist and throws it back through the open bathroom door.

Mike doesn't know what to say. He's never made Harvey this mad before and he's done far worse. Harvey usually looks at him with disappointment and carries out a punishment with calculated efficiency and care. This bottled up rage scares him.

"I'm sorry," Mike whispers feeling tears well up behind his eyes. He's not even that sorry. He just wants his Dom back. He just wants Harvey to look at him, for god's sake!

"Go to bed, Mike." Harvey shouts from the living room where he's cleaning up a pool of melted ice cream.

Mike stands there next to the bed, wishing he could turn back time and just shut his fucking mouth, take the punishment and reward, and go to bed with his Dom's arms around him. He hasn't slept alone in months.

When he realizes nothing he says or does is going to fix this, Mike pulls back the covers, climbs in, and buries his burning face in the sheets.

* * *

After lying awake blinking back tears and chastising himself for being such a fucking crybaby, Mike gives up trying to sleep, throws back the covers and stands. Down in the dark living room he can hear Harvey snoring softly from the couch.

Mike grabs a pillow and the throw off the end of the bed, and then walks down to stand next to him. He has one arm over his face and looks as though at some point before he fell asleep, he'd been troubled.

Mike lays the pillow on the floor below him and lowers himself down. He's usually awake before Harvey so he'll slip away and be back in bed before Harvey gets his morning coffee. And even if he's not, Harvey can't get any angrier than he is now.

Within a few minutes, he's asleep.

* * *

Mike is kicked awake. He sits up too fast and bumps his shoulder on the underside of the coffee table. He grabs it and tries to squeeze out the pain.

"Mike?"

He groans. It's still dark out. Really dark. No more than an hour or two must have passed.

"What are you doing on the floor?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Harvey swings both feet off the couch and Mike can hear him rubbing the stubble on his cheeks.

"And you thought the floor would be better?"

"Yeah."

"Because?"

Mike must sound pathetic when he says, "Because it's closer to you."

Mike can't bear to look up at Harvey, too embarrassed at being found curled up like a scared kid. Harvey makes a noise Mike can't interpret, then stands and begins walking toward the bedroom. Mike thinks he's going to the bed, abandoning Mike to be alone once again on the couch when he says, "I'll be right back."

Mike can hear the toilet flush and the light from the bathroom illuminate the hotel suite briefly before it's switched off. When Harvey returns he's dragging the massive white comforter from the bed. He lies back on the couch and offers a hand to Mike.

"Come on, then."

"Really?"

"You're not sleeping on the floor."

Mike doesn't have to be told twice. He crawls into the narrow space beside Harvey and finds he has to lay half on top of him to fit. Harvey pulls him in with one arm.

He doesn't kiss Mike, pet him, or even brush his fingertips over his skin as Mike has gotten so used to. His touch is perfunctory and protective, but no less delicious.

They lay there in silence.

"I'm really really sorry, Harvey." Mike says finally because he doesn't know what else to do.

Harvey doesn't respond. The grip around his waist tightens and then relaxes.

"You'll receive a punishment in the morning. Apologize after that and you'll be forgiven."

The tears start threatening again, but Mike sniffs them back and nods. "Yeah, okay."

Harvey grunts then pulls the big heavy comforter higher up around Mike's neck.

"Why are you doing this?" Mike asks.

"You're punished when you misbehave or are willfully disrespectful. You know that. You want me to forgive you? Well I can't do that until you've accepted responsibility for your actions through punishment."

Mike nods. "No, I know that. I meant... why are you letting me sleep with you?"

This is apparently a much more difficult thing to explain because Harvey is silent for a while, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows repetitively.

"Because I was breaking my own rule to not close doors on each other in anger, and because I once promised you that I would never again use touch deprivation as punishment. I forgot."

Whatever determination Mike had left for keeping tears at bay starts dissolving.

"Even when I'm furious with you, Mike, I'll always make sure you're cared for."

Mike hiccups embarrassingly and starts crying in earnest. Whether from pent up emotions or relief, he's not sure. He's just glad he has Harvey's shoulder to cry into. Harvey pulls him in even tighter, almost too tight to breathe, and starts rubbing his hand up and down his back.

* * *

**A note on safe-words and safe-play:**  
As I hope many of you have inferred, this chapter does NOT represent a responsible use of safe-words and safe-play. Interactions in this chapter are a purposeful representation of problems in Harvey and Mike's relationship, as well as individual immaturity and insecurity. Additionally, it reflects intricacies in the AU that may not translate into real world BDSM relationships and interactions. This will be expanded on later in the fic, but if you have questions feel free to contact me.

___**When experimenting or playing in your personal life, please remember that safe-words are an important aspect of a responsible BDSM relationship. The use of a safe-word should NEVER be met with guilt and/or shamming. There is no right or wrong time to use a safe-word. If you feel at all uncomfortable with something that's happening in a scene, use your safe-word!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:**__ First, I want to apologize for the longer than estimated delay on this chapter. I tried to hold off a bit so that I could get a head start on future chapters, but unfortunately that didn't really happen. I still have a bit more to write and send to my beta before I'll be able to post chapter 9, so please do not expect another chapter for at least 10 days. Similarly, I profusely apologize for ANY lack of response to comments or replays last chapter. I'm not ignoring you, I'm just insanely busy and systematically falling asleep before I have a chance to open my laptop!_

_Now, in response to some heated feedback I received on the previous chapter I have clearly upset and/or worried quite a few of you. I knew this was going to be a likely reaction and tried to properly prepare you for the inevitability of some more difficult themes in this fic. I sincerely hope that I've not driven away any readers! As I've told some of you - there will be bumpy roads in the future, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel! Many of you brought up some well informed and valid points that I very much hope will be adequately addressed in future chapters._

_As always, if you have any questions do not hesitate to contact me here or on Tumblr, but if you'd like to see answers to my commonly asked questions please refer to a recent post on my Tumblr (poppypickford)._

_Thank you!_  
_-PoppyPickford_

* * *

Mike is laying face down on the bed with his legs over the edge and his ass raised up with a pillow. Harvey barely gave him time to pee and wash the sleep from his eyes before he was arranging him here for his punishment. When Mike sat up, finally rested from what would have been a sleepless night, Harvey was completely dressed and intimidating looking, standing at the edge of the couch holding the wooden paddle firmly in one hand.

"Let's not waste time," he'd said. "You have five minutes for the bathroom and then I want you in position on the bed."

Mike feels remarkably at ease now. Whatever Harvey has planned it can't be worse than a Dom who can barely stand to look at you. Right at this moment Mike can't be bothered to figure out who's more at fault here. He really just wants to get to the other side of this.

"I asked you last night how many strikes you earned, what did you say?"

"Nine."

"Tell me what they were for."

Mike licks his lips and says, "For hesitating, begging, pushiness and... for talking back."

Harvey lays a hand on Mike's back to still him as he fidgets. He hates this part. Why can't they just get down to it? Why does Harvey always insist on making him _talk?_

"The way you spoke to me last night was unacceptable, Mike. Under any circumstance. If you have an issue with the way I'm handling you, you can always ask to sit down and discuss what is and is not working. But you will not treat me with so little respect. Do you understand?"

Mike nods against the sheets.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes."

"Last night you accused me of doubling your punishment."

Mike waits for him to say more. When he doesn't, Mike realizes Harvey is waiting for him to acknowledge it.

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't have. But I will now. You'll count all eighteen."

Mike digs his fingers into the sheets as Harvey steps behind him. The paddle isn't something they use all that often. It's painful without any of the caressing sting of other implements. It also makes him feel uncomfortably like a kid getting a punishment from his parents. Most Subs had a small paddle hanging in their room when they were young. Mike's Gram couldn't bring herself to pick up a paddle, but there was a woman who lived upstairs. She was a Dom who had four kids Mike played with. Sometimes, when he'd misbehave and refuse to apologize, or worse still, refuse to accept one of the punishments Gram would dish out - like chores, or no TV for a week, or worst of all... no Trevor - Gram would disappear and return with Mrs. Peterson. God, Mike hated her. She never smiled and always looked down her nose at him. She would make him apologize to Gram and then he'd have to hold on to the kitchen chair while she whacked him through his jeans.

Looking back, she probably put half the force behind those paddles than she would have for her own kids. It barely hurt at all. But the embarrassment was enough to make him try to avoid going through it again.

Mike hears the tell tale whooshing sound of the paddle cutting through the air followed by the hard unforgiving whack as it lands on bare skin. He hisses. Fuck, that hurts. He almost forgets to say "one", but Harvey is merciful and pauses long enough for Mike to collect himself and croak it out. It's a good thing, too. Mike doesn't think he could stand being scolded again right now.

When it's all over. When Mike has croaked out "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry" a couple times to a Harvey who is _finally_ meeting his eye, Harvey kisses him. He holds Mike's chin between his fingers and places one, soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. It's the best sign of forgiveness Mike could have asked for.

* * *

Harvey sits on the couch reading the newspaper while Mike lays face down with his cheek on Harvey's thigh. Occasionally Harvey's hands trail teasingly over his red hot flesh. Although Mike knows how much his Dom likes to admire a reddened ass his persistent touch is soothing and almost apologetic.

Mike is dozing in and out of consciousness. He's still weary from an anxious sleep, and lazy from punishment.

"We need to talk," Harvey says as he sets the paper down on the coffee table.

Mike turns his head to look up at him. "Yeah," he agrees

He pulls his hand off Mike and sighs. "This is a conversation for later, but in the meantime you have permission to take a break from our previously set rules. You need to feel comfortable speaking freely. Now, get dressed. We'll talk over lunch."

"It's almost lunch time?" Mike asks incredulously.

"I let you sleep.

* * *

Mike picks idly at a plate of pasta that would probably be delicious if he weren't so distracted by the conversation Harvey refuses to begin, and the discomfort of sitting on an under-padded dining room chair. Mike finally gives up and sets his fork down.

"Should I have them bring you a cushion?" Harvey asks.

Mike shakes his head. "No, thank you."

The sommelier comes by to refill Mike's white wine. The bottle has barely left the edge of the glass before Mike is swooping it up and guzzling.

Harvey reaches across the table to still his hand. "Whoa, slow down."

Mike coughs.

"You need to calm down, Mike. I can tell you're coming unglued, and that's why we're talking things through."

Mike clutches the wine glass when Harvey tries to take it from him. Harvey sighs and acquiesces.

"Talking _what _through?" Mike says. "You haven't said anything. Not one thing."

Harvey sits back in his chair and strums his fingers on the table. "Do you understand what I'm trying to help you learn here? You accused me last night of making you into someone you're not and -"

"I thought I was forgiven for that," Mike says.

"You are."

"Then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because being forgiven of something doesn't solve the problem."

Mike slumps in his chair.

"Mike, if you only knew how spectacularly wrong you are in thinking I want a Sub like Ethan. He's a sweet boy who will make Jacob very happy, but he's too perfect. He was never what I wanted."

"What's wrong with perfect?" Mike asks, sounding frustrated. He wouldn't go so far as to say that Ethan is _perfect, _but he doesn't talk back, he doesn't piss off his Dom, and as far as Mike knows he rarely if _ever_gets punished outside of play. His life is peachy.

"It's boring," Harvey hisses.

"But. But, I thought I'm supposed to strive to be better? Isn't that what you always say?"

Harvey rubs a hand down his face. "Yes."

"And if Ethan being a good boy makes him boring... then what am I supposed to be? If I stay as I am I'm interesting, but not interesting enough to get avoid getting my ass whipped on a regular basis. And if I strive to follow his example, I become boring. I could be wrong but I don't think you punish me for your own amusement, and I certainly don't look forward to pissing you off."

Harvey's breathing is fast and deep and Mike is pretty sure his Dom is at a loss for words. He exhales and looks out into the room as if in search for an answer.

"I want to please you, Harvey. But sometimes I don't know what you want from me, and I'm not sure you do either." Mike tries to sound gentle, but Harvey's eyes flare with indignation regardless. "Ever since the hearing it's felt harder and harder to be good enough for you."

"You _are_ good enough," Harvey bites back. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Then why are we doing this?" Mike demands with two palms on the table. "Why are we playing this game? I'm not allowed to even _hesitate_to obey you, and look where it got us!" Mike has been trying to reign in his questioning of Harvey's methods lately, but rarely, if ever, has he debated with him on something. This is supposed to be a Dom's job. Mike shouldn't have to worry about these things, right? Relationship direction is supposed to be out of his hands.

"You had the opportunity to say no to this _game_ as you call it. You chose it of your own free will."

"I know! That's because I thought it was going to make us closer. I thought you were trying to teach me something."

"I am," Harvey insists. "But what you don't seem to understand, Mike, is that Roissy is also meant to be _fun_."

Mike shakes his head. "Well, I'm not having fun. I feel like I'm at a four star correctional facility, except I don't know what I need to do to graduate."

Harvey blinks and gapes. He looks strangely and uncomfortably helpless.

"Sir?"

Mike and Harvey both look up. A woman Mike recognizes from the hostess desk is smiling down at them.

"Yes, what is it?" Harvey asks, shaking himself from the tension of their conversation. He looks too relieved to be off subject and that worries Mike. They haven't solved anything. Not one thing.

"A Mister Darby has requested that you and your Sub join him for cocktails. If you're interested we've arranged a private lounge for your party."

Mike blinks at the hostess. "Who?" he asks. She ignores him, so he looks at Harvey.

"Darby?" Harvey asks. His tone is conflicted.

"Yes. Shall I show you to the lounge?"

Whatever Harvey's thinking it's processing at lightening speed.

"Harvey, no. Not now."

He doesn't seem to even hear Mike because he's nodding and wiping his mouth with the white napkin.

"Harvey!"

The hostess looks down at him briefly and then to Harvey as if expecting him to do something about Mike's tone.

"Thank you. If you give me the door number I can find it myself. I'm familiar with the hotel."

She nods, gives him the directions, and leaves.

"What's going on?" Mike asks as Harvey comes around and helps him up from his chair. "Who is this guy?"

"An old acquaintance."

"What kind of an acquaintance?" Mike almost trips over a Sub who is kneeling at her Dom's feet. He mumbles an apology she probably doesn't understand and keeps walking.

"Not a very friendly one, I'm afraid."

They're turning into the lobby outside the dining room when Mike grabs Harvey by the sleeve and pulls, causing him to stumble. He straightens up, looks around to see if anyone noticed, and points a finger at Mike. "Don't manhandle me," he snaps.

"You weren't stopping!"

"Keep quiet. We don't need to broadcast our conversation."

"If he's not a friendly acquaintance, then why are we doing this now? We weren't done talking, Harvey. I need this resolved."

"We're meeting with him because he represents a business opportunity I can't ignore."

"This is about business!?" Mike shouts.

"Do not raise your voice to me again, Mike. I swear to god, I give you an inch and you take a mile."

They're in the middle of a hallway with at least a dozen people staring, or trying not to stare at them, when Mike realizes how mortal Harvey is, and worst of all, how disappointing that is.

He pulls back his shoulders, not caring how Harvey interprets the gesture and asks, "Tell me what makes this more important than me, or I'm not going with you."

Harvey deflates. "It's not more important than you. It's important _because_of you."

"How?"

Harvey looks around again to verify their privacy. "Edward Darby owns the second largest pharmaceutical company in the world, based out of London. They have offices and manufacturing centers in four European countries, China and Australia. Rumor has it he's looking to finally branch into the U.S. market."

"And you want to represent."

"It'll redeem me," he insists.

It's true, if Harvey were to return to Jessica with a client of that stature, anything that happened in the past would almost surely be forgotten. The company's losses would be returned tenfold.

"What I accomplish, _you_ accomplish," Harvey says. "We'll be kings again."

Mike exhales, defeated, and nods. Harvey wraps an arm around him and pulls him in for a kiss.

"You promise we'll finish talking later?"

Harvey pulls away just enough to look down at Mike and say, "What I'm trying to teach you is simple. I'm trying to teach you trust."

"I do trust you."

"You say you do, but you don't. Now, we'll talk more about this later."

When they're just outside the lounge door, Harvey turns on Mike. "Be on your best behavior around Darby, understand? He'll be judging every word I say and every move I make. He'll consider my handling of you a reflection of my leadership abilities."

Mike gapes. "Oh my god, I just realized something."

"What?"

"We'll have to tell him who I am."

"I know that."

"Harvey, no! Please! I'm not even allowed to trust Rachel with my secret, and now you're volunteering it to a stranger?"

"Keep quiet," Harvey snaps. "We have no choice, we'll have to take the chance."

"I'm not taking a chance on my career to get you extra kudos with Jessica."

"It would be way more than extra kudos, you know that. And besides, I know something about him that would make it extremely unwise of him to go tongue wagging to _anyone_."

"Are you sure?" Mike whispers. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes. Now, come on."

* * *

Edward Darby is a stout, confident Dom with a deceptive glint in his eye that makes Mike immediately nervous.

"Harvey, it's good to see you," he says. His voice has the smooth elegant drawl of an upper-crust Englishman. "And at Roissy, no less. I'd thought you'd given up on the place."

Harvey's jaw twitches around a smile. "Bad memories can be forgotten and replaced with good. Edward, meet Michael Ross."

Mike steps out and offers his hand with a smile.

Darby chortles as if he's the most amusing thing he's ever seen. "Forward little thing, isn't he?"

Mike frowns, takes a step back, and looks at Harvey helplessly. What had he done wrong?

"Mike is unique," Harvey explains.

"And you've collared him? How remarkable. I suppose a little spirit can be rewarding." Harvey directs Mike to one of two facing loveseats. He lowers himself, but finds that he can't decide how to sit comfortably. Darby is staring at him with a grin, judging every move he makes. God, it makes his skin crawl. Finally, Harvey puts an arm around him.

"Quite an inexperienced puppy, isn't he?" Darby says with amusement. "How novel for you."

Mike's cheeks flush with righteous indignation. Darby laughs. Harvey pinches Mike's arm in warning.

"He's still unaccustomed to how things work here. Please forgive him, his only instruction is to please me and at the moment he's doing just fine."

Mike melts under the indirect praise and reassurance.

"Well, I must say Harvey that it is good to see you. And while I'd heard you'd collared a Sub I had to see it for myself. Congratulations."

Mike gulps. Fuck. Who had he heard that from? Hardly anyone knows.

"Thank you," Harvey replies. "And may I inquire after your own guest? Or are you here to watch? I remember how much you used to enjoy that."

Darby takes a sip of something dark and strong, cringes, and shakes his head. "No need to be snide, Specter. Really, I thought we'd moved on. Bygones and all that."

"I would like to think so. I'd like to put history behind us and move on, professionally."

"Professionally?" Darby says with a raised eyebrow. "I see we aren't mincing words. Should I take it you've accepted my hospitality for _professional_reasons alone?"

"You and I have one thing in common, Darby."

"What's that?"

"Neither of us are deceptive about our motives."

Darby grins as if sharing in some devious personal secret.

"I know you're shopping for a firm in the states, and if you think you'll find better representation, you're delusional. If our history makes the potential for a professional relationship impossible between us, then Mike and I will gladly leave you to your weekend and continue enjoying ourselves."

Mike looks up at Harvey and then back to Darby, knowing he's missing eighty percent of what's going on.

Darby takes another sip from his drink and hums contemplatively. "I feel I don't know you anymore Specter. We were good friends once, but I worry you are harboring too many hard feelings toward me. I need someone I can trust to support my interests and respect my personal life."

Harvey's eyes narrow.

"Granted," Darby continues, "You have a very pretty boy there, and your obvious affection for him reassures me."

Just when Harvey is about to further question Darby, the door behind them opens. They all turn to look.

Mike watches a Sub saunter in. She's nearly naked and stunningly beautiful. She's bare aside from a small form fitting pair of leather panties as dark as her long wavy hair. Her small feet move over the floor soundlessly and her breasts sit impressively high and pert with small delicate nipples still red from some earlier abuse. She wears a solid gold collar around her neck and sports pretty red bruises around each wrist and ankle, all of which somehow make her more of a sexual fantasy than she would otherwise be. Although he didn't see quite so much of her last time, the chilling reality of who this is clicks in his memory. Faces are harder than words to remember with picture perfect clarity. But Scottie's face is not one he would forget.

She's smiling at Harvey as she glides down to an elegant kneel at Darby's feet. Harvey is so tense Mike thinks he can feel his nails slowly cutting through the fabric of Mike's shirt.

"Oh dear. Judging from your expression, I'd harbor a guess that you didn't know Scottie was still mine."

Mike bites his tongue as the puzzle pieces start fitting together, as he begins to realize what causes Harvey's icy tone and conflicted cordiality. Sitting across from them is the man Scottie chose over Harvey. The first Sub he ever loved chose the Dom Harvey now feels is his ticket to once again becoming the golden boy of Pearson Hardman.

"No. I did not."

Scottie smirks before lifting her face up to her Dom, who strokes her cheek with permission to speak.

"Harvey has little faith in my loyalty," she says. "When I saw him in New York, he must not have believed it was your collar I wore." Darby smiles down at her affectionately.

"A man of little faith? I don't know if I like that quality in a Dom."

Mike's eyes narrow dangerously at Scottie, who grins and laughs silently under her Dom's hand. What collar? The bitch hadn't been wearing one and she'd practically thrown herself at Harvey!

"My trust must be earned, Darby. What I lack in trust for Scottie is personal and not a reflection of my professional loyalties. I always stick behind my clients."

"Don't be so hard on him Eddy," Scottie says. "He was a perfect gentleman."

Wrong again, Mike thinks. Harvey had been itching to punch her in the nose the whole time.

"Where was this again?" Darby asks with a frown.

Harvey says nothing but Scottie is quick to reply. "I saw him while picking up a sandwich at that little place I like near the old office. Harvey was having lunch with Mike." She winks at him. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Harvey says stonily.

Mike tries to steel his face, but the web of deceit they're weaving makes him uncomfortable. Scottie had been collarless and hunting for a one-night-stand, preferably with Harvey.

He wants to claw her eyes out, but he can't. He should at least be happy that she hasn't outed him. He'd gone to that bar as Mike Ross, Dom associate at Pearson Hardman, and that's clearly not the persona he's sporting now.

"I do hate knowing she's in another country without me. But even my significant influence can't change the demands of her career." He turns to smile at Mike. "You must have similar feelings on the subject, Mike?"

It's the first time Mike has had to speak. He feels lucky not to have embarrassed himself by squeaking when he says, "Sometimes, sir. But then, Harvey would rather take me with him."

Darby chuckles. "He even speaks for you, Harvey. What a remarkable thing he is. I doubt I would have the patience, but then you always were up for a challenge."

Mike flushes hot. Fuck, he can't do anything right.

"Mike is correct, I do prefer his company when out of town, and I've never felt the need to forbid him from speaking his mind. So please, don't confuse him."

Harvey rubs a palm up and down Mike's back.

"Come now, Harvey. He's hardly a wilting flower. I don't think I've frightened him quite yet."

Scottie grins mischievously. God, she creeps the fuck out of him.

"Let's get back to the subject at hand. I'd like the opportunity to represent. You and I both know that taking your business elsewhere is foolish. Let's consider it not only a mutually profitable business agreement, but also a gesture of forgiveness and good faith. Let's shake on it now and work over the details when the weekend is over. There's no reason not to continue enjoying Roissy."

Mike's heart is racing. There's nothing he likes or trusts about Darby and his Sub. Knowing they'll both be a regular fixture in Harvey and his professional lives makes him uneasy. Knowing they'll undoubtedly drip into their private lives and conversations makes him nauseous. But Harvey's right. The opportunity is sitting in front of them and if there's one thing he's learned as a lawyer, it's that unpleasant clients are an unavoidable constant.

"I agree, Harvey. No reason not to enjoy Roissy. I'll tell you what. I've arranged to have Scottie perform tonight at The Playroom. She loves an audience. You and Mike are welcome to join us."

Mike gulps. There isn't a thing he can imagine more unpleasant than losing an evening that could have been just Harvey and he, trying to make the best out of what has so far been a fairly disastrous vacation.

And what will this mean for Harvey? Seeing his old Sub once again, performing what will surely be an example of sexual and submissive fantasy that will outshine everything Mike has ever done or been for him.

He's going to puke.

"We'd be delighted," Harvey says.

What else can he say? A no would have been a slap in the face. They're both stuck. If Harvey is to get this deal, they're at Darby's mercy, and that terrifies Mike. He lowers his eyes to hide the emotion revealed there.

"Very good. I look forward to showing off my pet, as always. Now, why don't you take your own little treat someplace private? He looks like he needs some seeing to."

Mike shivers. Both Darby and Scottie laugh.

Once Harvey has said his cordial goodbye they leave. Somehow his inability to even get off the couch has worked more in his favor than even his most rehearsed example of faux-hospitality. Apparently for Darby, stunned silence and immobility is better than too much eye contact.


End file.
